


Love Is A Battlefield

by ScreamedAloud



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Derek, Break Up, Conspiracy, First Love, Gay Bashing, M/M, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamedAloud/pseuds/ScreamedAloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski has loved Derek Hale ever since he'd first saw him in the Beacon Hills High cafeteria. Tragically their love wasn't meant to be, after a horrifying incident Stiles left for Harvard and Derek became a police detective. When a new and shockingly brutal accident occurs to Derek, it'll be that love that'll make them both whole again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Ethan and Aidan don't have surnames in canon Teen Wolf, so I made it Carver. 
> 
> This is my feet back into the Teen Wolf pool, and more often than not I'll finish with 'After The Bomb Drops' because of it...I hope. 
> 
> Also to the two who's read 'Welcome To The Dollhouse'...this just sprang in my mind. I'm still writing it, it's just Dollhouse is a little more complex and requires a little more effort than Battlefield does.

_“Derek stop it,” Stiles squirmed against the bed. “I'm not a big fan of that.”_

_“No,” Derek continued to run his fingers down Stiles' torso,the rough tips of his fingers making his ribs feel extra ticklish. “It's cute to see you laugh, makes me feel like I'm touching the Pillsbury Dough Boy.”_

_“Well, this dough boy is ready to knee you in the balls if you don't stop.” Stiles grinned as he reached down and cupped Derek's...special area._

_“Uhh, kitten want's to play naughty.” Derek growled as he swiftly rolled over on top of Stiles, his weight a comforting pressure on Stiles' body._

_“Not naughty, just a little tired of being poked and prodded, I want you to do another kind of prodding, if you know what I mean.” Stiles gazed up at Derek, his heart thumping madly as it always did whenever he looked into Derek's green eyes._

_“Oh, so you want me to change my tactics, I think I can do that.” Derek rumbled as he leaned down and started to cover Stiles' bare shoulder and neck with kisses._

_Stiles moaned lustily as he quietly marveled that he was here, about to start round three in his bedroom with the hottest, most amazing man he'd ever met. He'd never thought that a high school senior like Derek would even be interested in someone like him, a spastic freshman with a known tendency to over-share and talk a little too much. Stiles lost his train of thought when Derek moved from his neck and captured his mouth in another toe curling kiss._

_Electric fire filled Stiles as he clasped his fingers through Derek's thick black hair and pulled his head in closer, he enjoyed the heat as his tongue dueled with his boyfriend's. Stiles had to abandon Derek's hair when Derek reached up and pinned his hands to the bed with his own, one of Derek's hands easily trapped both of Stiles'. Derek used his other hand to wrap Stiles' leg around him, Stiles shivered as he felt the hard muscled planes of Derek's back against his skin._

_“Derek, I love you.” Stiles whispered against Derek's lips, the smell of his boyfriend's Big Red gum and Calvin Klein Bodyspray filling his nose. “So much.”_

“I've never seen a diamond in the flesh, I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies!”

Stiles jerked awake, dislodging his boyfriend's arm from around him as he reached over and slapped off his alarm clock that was perched on his walnut nightstand, brutally ending the Lorde song that had plagued his eardrums for the past seven weeks. With a groan he rose from the comforts of his bed and stumbled his way towards his shower, muttering mulishly about his classes all the way. He focused hard on the long grueling day of memorization that will require his best energy instead of wasting it by dissecting the horrifying guilt he'd momentarily felt dreaming about his high school boyfriend while beside his college boyfriend.

“And I was just getting to the part where I was fighting Jason Statham and I wanna say...Spongebob.” Stiles' boyfriend Ethan Carver yawned as he followed him from the bed, his toned swimmer's body truly a sight to behold. He quickly caught up to Stiles in the tiny medical school dorm suite they shared and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a gentle brush of his lips on Stiles' shoulder while he pulled them in closer.“So do you want to go to The Brew before class and what, grab a bite to eat before we split for the day?”

“Of course we can,” Stiles smiled brightly as he turned around and gave Ethan a more satisfying kiss on his pert lips, his dream of Derek rapidly being forgotten as he lasciviously looked at his handsome boyfriend of two years. “If we shower together I think we'll have enough time for an extra bear claw, what do you think about that?”

“I think, why are we still standing here when there's a shower waiting to be defiled.” Ethan smiled back as he tugged him in the direction of the waiting shower.

 

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“Stiles, why are we doing this again?” Stiles' best friend Lydia Martin moaned as she plopped down beside him at the oak study table and plunked her own book bag onto the floor. “It's so hard.”

“We're doing this because eventually we're going to be doctors eventually instead of just med students,” Stiles said a little by rote as he looked over his notes from biochem earlier. “so all of the studying is worth it.”

“Thank you,” Lydia sniffed as she reached down and pulled out her binder and books. “Some days I can't help but feel like why I don't transfer to Columbia and become like a..screenwriter...or something.”

“For one reason, you're not a writer Lydia, all your stories just, sorta, _devolve_ into crude porn about three pages in.” Stiles pointed out. “Another one is that you're studying to be a psychologist, which isn't as labor intensive as being a psychiatrist or an actual medical doctor would be.”

“If you weren't right and I wasn't so tired, I'd slap you.” Lydia blandly responded as she flipped though her copy of the DSM-IV.

“Yeah yeah.”

The two friends worked in companionable silence, each consumed in their own studies. Stiles had just finished his biochemical worksheet when his cell started to ring in the Harvard Library, the loud sounds of Ke$ha startling the surrounding students hard at work. Stiles quickly pressed the volume button in his pocket, shutting off Ke$ha's song about crazy kids and ending the call as he apologetically glanced around the cavernous study room.

“Who is that?” Lydia wondered as Stiles placed his Samsung Galaxy S4 on the table and unlocked it.

“Lydia I don't know,” Stiles said as he pulled down his notifications and exposed the call log. “Ethan knows this my study hour before gross anatomy, plus he's at the hospital doing rounds, he wouldn't have the time to call-oh.”

“Oh?” Lydia arched a flame red brow. “Why oh?”

“It's a 707 number,” Stiles furrowed his brow as he tried to place the number. “I don't recognize it.”

“707 is a California area code,”Lydia focused fully on Stiles, curiosity now filling her hazel eyes. “Are you expecting your father to call you?”

“No, this isn't any number that he'd call me from.” Stiles frowned as he looked down and tried to place the number “Plus he didn't email me with a new number if his old one from the station had to be changed again.”

“So are you going to call it?”

“...No.” Stiles decided against it as he placed his phone on vibrate and stuck it back into his jeans pocket. “I'm already behind with bio-chemistry, I don't need a distraction with some random phone call right now. If it's important then they'll leave a message.”

“If you say so,” Lydia shrugged as she dug out a yellow highlighter.

 

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Three days later it was Friday evening and Stiles found himself running along the Cambridge greenspace, mindlessly singing along to Britney's Work Bitch. It served a double purpose for Stiles, the run was his time to go back over the past week as well as be the main part of his physical rehab. Stiles' left knee and shin throbbed as he turned the corner and admired the russet leaves of the maples that lined the path, it was a familiar ache to him so Stiles pushed on, more than ready to finish running the greenspace and take a well-deserved shower. He was so focused on running to Britney's beat, it was jarring when a phone-call interrupted Britney's singing.

“H-Hello?” Stiles answered his headphones receiver while he came to a stop, his momentum making him take a few extra steps.

“Stiles?” a young feminine voice asked. “Stiles Stilinski?”

“Yeah that's me,” Stiles responded a little curiously as he started to run again, the voice familiar, but not very. “Who's calling?”

“It's...Cora...Cora Hale.” Cora sniffed sadly.

“Cora!” Stiles jerked, surprise an uneasy bolt through him. “W-Why are you calling?”

“It's about Derek.”

“What about him?” Stiles picked up speed, anger at hearing that name making him go faster.

“He's been in an accident.” Cora slowly said, her cool tones filled with unvoiced emotion.

“Is it a horrible accident?” Stiles asked neutrally while he stumbled past some park benches, his knees now weak for a reason that wasn't exhaustion or anger. “Was he injured badly, or even at all?”

“H-He was...e-ejected...from the passenger's side of the car he was in,” Cora whispered, Stiles could hear her crying in-between her words, he was getting annoyed with himself for empathizing with her. “Stiles, the doctors said he's extremely lucky, if you can believe that. Derek only suffered broken legs, a broken arm, and a some head trauma.”

“That's luck Cora?” Stiles gasped, unwanted devastation making his eyes fill with tears. He could clearly imagine the pain Derek must have been going through now, as well as the terror of not knowing what was happening. He blinked his tears away as the gates that opened the Cambridge greenspace came into view, angry with himself for crying about Derek Hale.

“He's alive, which is a miracle Dr. Lopez told us.” Cora stiltedly said. “The last time I checked on him Derek was getting more aware of where he was, but the doctor said it'll be a few days before he's coherent enough to talk to us.”

“That's...something, I suppose.” Stiles exited the greenway and traveled east to where he lived at Jones House, his emotions now firmly back under his control and in the pit of his mind where they belonged. “Cora look, I extend my sympathies towards Derek and your family, but I don't understand something, why are you calling me?”

 

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“Oh thank god, I needed another one of these!” Stiles gasped after he took a huge gulp of cherry vodka sour. “I fucking love Stoli Saturdays.”

“I know right?,” agreed Lydia as she sipped her dry martini. “Can you think of a better way to forget the horrors of the week than to go get hammered on half-priced cocktails all night?”

“I couldn't think of one even if I wanted to.” Stiles took another healthy swig of vodka, the fiery chill of the liquor warming his heart, the overstuffed couch he was reclining on adding to his comfort.

“It must be a tough week if you're here Stiles,” Lydia commented from beside him, her silvery Chloe dress sparkled under the lights of the crowded bar. “You only drink if you're really stressed or really happy, I can't decide which is it, you've been quiet and weird the entire time we've been here.”

“It's nothing,” Stiles lied with a small brittle smile. “I'm just a little...preoccupied...and I thought a drink would relax me, that's all.”

“I don't mean to pry, as long as you don't turn into Lindsay Lohan tonight I'm fine with a cocktail or three to calm the nerves, it's what I'm doing.” Lydia acknowledged with another sip of martini. “I only wish you'd tell me what's bothering you, which you will.”

“I will,” Stiles agreed, the alcohol making him brighter and happier. “It's just a little...raw...at the moment.”

“Does it have anything to do with your boy-toy?” Lydia wondered as she blearily blinked at Stiles. “You finally realized that Captain Abs's too boring for you?”

“Ethan's not boring!” Stiles cried a touch louder than he meant to. “Ethan's sweet and he's kind and thoughtful and-it has nothing to do with him, alright?!”

“So what do it have to do with?”

“...Derek.” Stiles said, extreme reluctance making his voice barely audible above Mumford and Sons blaring through the speakers.

“What about him?” Lydia asked with a toss of her titian hair, distaste written all over her features.

“His sister called me yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“The mean one,” Stiles said as he drained his glass and signaled a nearby waiter for another cherry vodka sour. “Cora called me yesterday while I was running.”

“So?”

“So what?” Stiles politely smiled as he extended his empty glass towards the oncoming waiter. “Another cherry vodka sour please.”

“So why'd she call you, was it about Derek?” Lydia asked impatiently. “I know it wasn't a social call, not with that family.”

“And you'd be right.” Stiles agreed as he rested his head on the back of the couch, Cora's phone call still ringing in his ears. “She called because Derek was in a car accident two weeks ago.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, but-”

“-Oh that's too bad,” Lydia sniffed, now vastly unconcerned with Stiles' news. “She should have only called if Derek had died, tragically in a shower of sulfuric acid or zombie outbreak.”

“Lydia-”

“-I hope you listened politely, expressed your deepest sympathies, and then ended the call.” Lydia steamrolled over Stiles as she downed the last of martini and slammed it down on the small coffee table in front of them.

“I did, all of it” Stiles defended himself as he shredded the remnants of the sodden napkin that was around his previous beverage. “You know I did.”

“Good,” Lydia nodded forcefully. “Don't get involved, don't become interested in Derek Hale and his toxic bullshit. You've come too far Stiles, regained so much, to be stupid enough to get sucked back in by...them.”

 

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“So where are you now?” Ethan asked Stiles the following bright Monday morning. He was quickly power walking his way down Longwood Avenue, Stiles' book bag thumped hard against his back as he made his way back to the student parking.

“Of all the things to leave here in our room, you just had to leave your flash drive.” Ethan teased.

“Don't stop,” Stiles smiled into his phone, the March air a brisk caress against his cheek. “I wouldn't have forgotten it if _you_ hadn't distracted me.”

“And I did this how?”

“Who wanted a quickie before he went to his rounds earlier, and who's the upstanding perfect boyfriend that accommodated him?”

“Don't make it sound so clinical Stiles.” Ethan laughed back. “Plus, judging by the fist pumps and head nods that were thrown our way-”

“-HEY!” Stiles screamed, scared half to death as a gleaming black Lexus SUV stopped randomly in front of him. He gawked at the Lexus, in serious disbelief as his phone clattered to the concrete in his fright. Cursing he swooped down to pick up the pieces of the phone, glaring up at the stalling car while he yelled, “WHAT THE HELL!?”

“So I this fancy schmancy school hasn't Ivy-Leagued your...common...tongue out yet, that's heartening Stiles.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles clenched through his teeth as the driver of the SUV exited. “Peter Hale.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's part two!

“I already told your niece no Peter,” Stiles stated resolutely as he rose from the ground with the pieces of his phone, he glared hard at Peter Hale the entire way. “So you've wasted your time by coming here.”

“Well Stiles, you say that I'm wasting my time, but I say I'm giving you the hard sell.” Peter responded while he moved in front of Stiles. He looked like an extra from Law and Order with his pressed black suit and slicked back hair.

“You can call it whatever you want, Peter it's still time wasted.” Stiles shouldered past Peter, he shoved his phone deep in his jeans pocket as he made his way to the student lot where his beat up Ford Taurus was parked.

“He's asking for you, constantly, if Cora didn't get the chance to gift you with that particular tidbit of information before you rudely hung up on her.” Peter said quietly, his words stopping Stiles in his tracks.

“I don-”

“-That's a kick in the teeth, I hope you're well aware of that Stiles.” Peter continued as he placed a callused hand on Stiles' shoulder and turned him around to face him. “Derek, once he'd awoken from a ninety-six hour coma that was literally the most horrifying thing I'd ever seen, wouldn't allow his family to be near him. He didn't want to speak to or could clearly recognize his baby sister Cora, or me, the loving uncle who raised him since he was seven. But you, Stiles he clearly remembers you, as...odd...as that is. He can't recall the past four years, and remembering his occupation or where his lives is a daily struggle, but Stiles Stilinski is firmly set in his mind.”

“It's nice to know I made an impression Peter, I suppose.” Stiles said quietly to the Lexus' black wing mirror behind Peter.

“Stiles, you made more than an impression and you know it.” Peter dismissed Stiles' words with an errant hand wave. “You loved him, ever since you were eleven and couldn't take your eyes off of him when he used to go to work with me.”

“You'd stare too if a boy claimed to be fourteen even though he looked like a weekend Chippendales dancer.” Stiles muttered, still looking at the side mirror like it's his new best friend. “And besides, I think you, your family, and Derek himself are missing one huge...hiccup...about my love for Derek.”

“Ah.” At that Peter lost some of his bluster, chagrined just a tad as more of the non rose colored past started to fill his mind.

“Yes. 'Ah'.” snapped Stiles. “I don't love Derek, not anymore, not after all that's happened with us.”

“You both were injured by that night Stiles, I want you to remember-”

“-Peter I'm sure that Derek has felt remorse, and that he regrets all that happened between us at graduation.” Stiles broke in, pain filled rage charging his chocolate brown eyes. “Plus I'm sure that I should've been able to get over it by now, that I need to be the bigger person and give my life over to God and Oprah or some-”

“-Stiles-”

“-But I can't Peter,” Now Stiles stared at Peter, letting him all of the devastation that was currently coursing throughout his body. “I can't do it. H-He broke me, shattered something deep inside of me that I was sure, I was _positive_ that I'd never get back.”

“-If yo-”

“-But I did,” Tears started to stream down Stiles' face as he stared at Peter, who recoiled slightly at the sight of Stiles' misery. “I don't know how, but I sure as hell did. I can laugh again, I can smile and I can mean it. I trust now...Peter, I can _love_ again. I won't let Derek Hale destroy all of that, make me  _nothing_ again. I'm sorry, about the wreck and Derek's amnesia, I'm truly sorry.”

“But?”

“But I can't help you,” Stiles said finally. “I won't.”

 

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_“Senator Hale, it's such a service you're doing for our town and the state of California.” a tall icy looking blonde fawned over Derek's father Senator Marcus Hale as she sipped from flute of champagne. “Seeing you fight so hard for Proposition Eight and the continued implementation of the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy, it makes me and mine sleep a little sweeter at night to know there's a champion in congress for the family, who shares the same values as I do.”_

_“Of course Mrs. Foch,” Marcus Hale accepted the complement from the wife of one of the richest men in America. He smiled at her, a dimpled dazzler that made the boozy housewife sway even harder. “Staying strong to the course of the home and church is my duty, one I uptake with the greatest respect.”_

_Stiles barely controlled himself, he'd gotten some shrimp into his mouth just before he opened it and starting waving the flaming faggot flag in this fundraising dinner. The adults continued to schmooze with each other while Stiles tried his best to ignore them both. He mechanically ate his seafood platter while he wondered for the eighth time that hour just why he was there. Senator Hale extended the invitation towards his father, not to him. It wasn't even like he or his father were even going to vote for him, they were both staunchly liberal Democrats. Stiles shot another glance at his father, who was digging into his steak like a starving man, trust Linden Stilinski to never let politics get in the way of a free fancy dinner._

_The water had cucumber in it and was hideously disgusting, Stiles sipped it as he absently searched the enormous dining hall the California Republican Banquet was being held in. He didn't get the chance to tell Derek that he was coming to the banquet tonight, Stiles and his father had literally gotten the invitation four days ago, the following days were filled with Derek's championship practices and Stiles' sophomore end of grade practice tests. When they did get the chance to catch up at night, it was mostly about if Stiles could feel Derek's hard-on over the phone, not about RSVP's._

_Besides the banquet, there was also the father issue, which Derek and Stiles both were trying hard to skate around. Based on all the delightful conversations Stiles had the pleasure of overhearing tonight, he was pretty damn sure that Derek's Tea Party Senator of a father wouldn't exactly be shaking in ecstasy over the fact that his pride and joy, his only son like to know men in the biblical sense. And also in the sexual sense. It was the reason why Stiles had never set foot in Hale House, why he'd never really had a conversation with Cora Hale, Senator Hale's clone._

_Marcus Hale and his brand of politics were also part of the reason why no one at Beacon Hills knew that they were dating, well no one besides his best friend Lydia at least, that secret came out during a particularly informative sleepover involving large amounts of cannabis. To the general public Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski were just distant acquaintances, bound by the fact that Derek's uncle was the Beacon Hills' district attorney and his Father was the sheriff. They weren't even in the same social stratosphere at school, Derek was the captain of the Wolfpack and Stiles was intimately involved with his Myspace page, if Stiles screamed out the truth from the highest hilltop no one would beilieve him._

_And it had gotten extremely old, being Derek Hale's dirty little secret. Stiles had the clarity to be honest with himself, at first it was great. Being a secret was hot, the sneaking around and late night rendezvous were some of the hottest times of Stiles' life, he felt like a character in a Lifetime movie climbing out of his window and running towards Derek's charcoal Pontiac GTO. Eventually, what was once titillating became tedious, what was incinerating was now colder than the grave._

_Stiles was tired of pretending that Derek didn't recognize him, that it didn't feel like a thousand tiny shards of glass gouging deep into his soul whenever Derek's teammates would harass him after their gym class. He-_

-CAN'T LIVE A LIE, RUNNING FOR MY LIFE!

“I really do need to stop going to sleep to KISS 92.3.” Stiles grumbled as he slapped the snooze button on his alarm clock and rose from bed with Ethan.

 

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“Lydia it's finally over!” Stiles sang to his Galaxy as he jitterbugged down the second floor hallway of Truman Hall, excessively elated now that his first year finals were over.

“So what are you going to do now that you don't have to cram for pituitary glands anytime soon?” Lydia chirped as the warm May sun beamed down on Stiles.

“The usual as you damn well know Lydia, I'm going to glance through next years textbooks until July then Dad's going to come visit me till early September.” Stiles responded as he pressed the first floor button of the elevator at the end of the hall and waited.

“Stiles you can't spend your last official summer vacation nose-deep in books,” sighed Lydia. “You need to live a little, experience all of this before it's too late.”

“Lydia, I shudder to think what your suggestion is going to be.” Stiles snorted as the elevator dinged open.

“Martha's Vineyard is less than three hours away Stiles.” Lydia needled. “Aiden and Ethan's folks have a place there, it's bigger than my summer house, which is really saying something. We can go to the beach and eat lobsters, maybe even stalk Gwyneth Paltrow a little if we see her.”

“I didn't know you're still seeing Aiden Lydia,” Stiles teased while the elevator descended. “I would've sworn that you'd dump Mr. Rocker by now.”

“Hey!” Lydia huffed. “At least Aiden has a personality, which is more than I can say for his brother. So what if he's not in college like you and Ethan-”

“-And you too, you're going to college to-”

“-He has a dream and he's going after it.” Lydia leaped to Aiden's defense. “Wolfhart is...different and interesting, _he's_ making it different and interesting by being in it. He can sing and Aiden's crazy hot, he looks like Matt-”

“-Damon. I know, I'm dating his twin brother remember?” Stiles reminded her as the elevator opened and he made his way towards the exit. “I still can't believe that we're dating twins, it's like we're living the dream.”

“An absolute dream,” chimed Lydia. “It's like we're on Gossip Girl, for a couple months in the beginning I was sure Ethan and Aiden were just one person trying to play a long-con on us.”

“And why would anyone do that to us?” Stiles giggled while he walked down the stone steps in front of Truman Hall and made his way to student parking where his car was.

“Because we're awesome and smart, of course we're go-”

DING DONG DOON!

“Damn!” Stiles swore as his already dark cell phone completely shutdown on him. He shoved his dead cell in his pocket, making a mental note to text Lydia as soon as he could charge his phone. His mind wondered while he traveled, Stiles contemplated if he had enough money on his meal card for dinner tonight at student dining.

Stiles was debating if it would be better to just skip dinner entirely and spend his time eating ramen noodles and getting caught up on The Bold and The Beautiful when a car started to follow him. It was a champagne Mercedes coupe with tinted windows that made Stiles extremely frightened, whenever he stopped so did the car, whenever he'd change streets so would the Mercedes. Stiles was walking down Holyoke, about to dive into a random shop and scream for someone to call the police when the windows of the Mercedes descended.

 

“You really need to stop watching mob movies, if I wanted you dead you'd already be it.” a deep rumbling voice chuckled.

“You!” Immediately Stiles felt lightheaded, he tried desperately not to faint like a cheerleader does when she meets the axe-wielding murderer at the end of the movie.

“Yes, I Mr. Stilinski.” Senator Hale's emerald eyes sparkled with dark humor as he looked at Stiles the way others would regard a dying dog. “In the flesh.”

“What are-”

“-Would you please get in the car Mr. Stilinski?” Senator Hale said smoothly as the passenger door swung opened. “I'd prefer it if I didn't have to air out dirty little secrets in public.”

“I'd rather no-”

“-Please.”

Stiles' throat closed as he gawked at Marcus Hale. He'd heard a lot of things from the Senator, but not the word please, and never was it used towards someone like him.

“We'll go to The White Rabbit.” Stiles jerked his head towards the shop across the street from them. “It's one in the afternoon so it should be empty.”

“And the...White Rabbit...is?”

“A LGBT coffee house, of course it is!” Stiles grinned maliciously. “Scared your Tea Party friends will blow a fuse if you're seen in a place like that?”

“Alright, I can get a cup and a scone, the fags makes great coffee.” To Stiles' surprise Senator Hale leaned over and closed the door. “I'll meet you there while I park the car, and if you try to leave, I'll have you expelled from Harvard.”

 

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“You were serious!” Stiles felt more blood drain from his head as he gaped at Senator Hale like he'd look at Britney Spears. “I thought you were joking!”

“Oh I never joke about family.” Senator Hale said serenely as he primly stirred creamer into his coffee. “And for all of his faults, Derek is my family.”

“I would've thought you'd use that...zeal...to keep me away from your family, seeing as I currently prefer to lay with men.” Stiles said slowly as he tore apart a bear claw.

“Yes but formerly, you preferred the company of my son.” Hale pointed out. “And it's your...company...that the doctor's informed me at length is required for Derek's rehabilitation.”

“I don't-”

“-Want to help Derek and his family. I know, both Cora and my...relation...has informed me of your stance.” Hale brushed off. “I don't care, Derek needs you so that means I need you.”

“I don't care if-”

“-Yes you do.” Hale finished stirring and pushed his cup far away from him, the veneer of civility now gone. “As part of the settlement, you received two hundred and fifty thousand dollars remember?”

“What does that-”

“-There was a clause in the contract your father signed.” Hale revealed. “I can ask one and only one favor from you, after that you're completely free.”

“Why would you write that in?” Stiles wondered.

“In one year I'm going to announce my intention to become the forty fourth president of these united states.” Senator Hale revealed. “I don't need any skeletons creeping forth once I step into the spotlight.”

“And the clause is for?”

“The clause is a switch, a way to stop you before you decided to spill your guts.”Hale smoothly replied. “If you decided to go cry on Barbara Walter's shoulder, I would have all of your tuition revoked, your entire family would be drowning in debt.”

“You can't do that!” Stiles gasped. “That's illegal!”

“I'm a fourth generation legacy at Harvard as well as a prominent Senator, I can do what I gosh darn please at that school.” Hale smiled nastily. “Plus your tuition was paid on credit, _my credit._ I could easily transfer all of the bills to your father, your lower middle-class father, who could barely afford to send you to community college let alone Harvard.”

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles rasped.

“There is nothing I wouldn't do for my family, nothing, even if it means I'd have to deal with the likes of you.” Senator Hale explained patiently. “So you're going finish your coffee, pack a few bags, and travel back to Beacon Hills with me. You're going to spend the next three months being the anchor Dr. Breeland described and when he gets his memory back, you will travel back to Harvard, free of all of us. Understand?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Would you care for another brandy Senator Hale?”

“No. Thank you though sweetheart,” Senator Hale smiled at the flight attendant, who blushed like a thirty-three year old schoolgirl. “I'm fin-”

“-Well I'm not,” Stiles said from across the aisle in the small private jet, tinkling his ice cubes as he did. “Can I get another one of these please, but hold the ice?”

“He's done for the flight,” Hale intervened. “That'll be all Tiffany.”

“Hey!” Stiles snorted indignantly as he rolled his head against the headrest, the four vodka sodas he'd drunk making it feel like he was on a roller-costar. “I'm of legal drinking age, I can get another drink if I want one.”

“You're also going to meet my family and become reacquainted with my son as soon as we land,” Senator Hale explained. “I'd rather not have to peel you from the interior of my plane.”

“Buzzkill!” Stiles closed his eyes and tried to quell the nausea that arose from the mention of Senator Hale's son. “Sue me if I needed a little soft focus for...this...excursion. Besides, I'm not going to meet those pack of wolves you call a family today.”

“Oh, you're not?”

“Nope!” Stiles shook his head. “I'm gonna go home and meet up with my dad, maybe take a shower and sleep what is sure to be a vicious hangover off.”

“And then quietly run away during the morning?” Hale responded condescendingly.

“Unlike you, I won't ever abandon my family.” Stiles opened his eyes and locked them with Senator Hale's cold green ones. “I would never just leave my father with a mountain of debt that I created.”

“As well as not a quitter, that trait of yours I remember distinctly.”

“Right,” Stiles agreed ruefully, breaking the stare as he looked down and swirled the melting ice in his glass. “I'm not a quitter. I said I'll help... _him_...and I will Senator Hale, because the sooner I do, the sooner I can return to my real life.”

“Yes, how is your-boyfriend-doing Stiles?” inquired Senator Hale. “A-”

“I'm not discussing my personal life,” snapped Stiles. “Especially with the likes of you.”

“I was going to say that a doctor who's also the son of a fortune five hundred CEO is quite the catch-”

“- Senator I'm gonna quietly p-pass out for the rest of this f-flight,” Stiles allowed himself to slur just a little. “When I wake up I'm going to go to my father's house straight from the airport. Tomorrow when I'm a little less hungover and can't feel my eyelashes, I'll come to the hospital and start jogging Derek's memory for yo...”

“Stiles!” Senator Hale looked over, only mildly alarmed as Stiles lost consciousness mid-sentence.

 

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“Stiles, I still can't believe you're here!” Scott McCall exclaimed for the fifth time that hour.

“Me either,” Stiles said as he chopped more carrots and tomatoes for the salad, a tad uncomfortable by all the staring from his childhood best friend. “It's wild.”

“Just...” Scott continued to stare at Stiles, his own task of chopping the lettuce forgotten. “Stiles I never thought that I'd see you again.”

“Well, here I-”

“-How's school?” Scott interrupted. “Is Harvard as hard as everyone thinks?”

“It's no picnic academically, but I'm enjoying myself.” Stiles conceded only a little stiltedly, Scott's stalker-staring made him feel a little bit like a bug under a microscope. He tossed his completed vegetables into the serving bowl between them as he tried to change the subject. “How's your work at the practice Scott, you still working with Dr. Deaton to treat the Bambi's and Babe's of Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah, Dr. Deaton died last summer.” Scott's expression of intense wonderment shifted into momentary sadness. “His heart finally had one Whopper too many.”

“Oh wow!” Stiles blinked. “That's horrible, Dr. Deaton was the best vet Beacon Hills ever had. Remember when Jiggly had worms and he gave you the pills for free?”

“Yeah, I run his practice now and I'm still doing his pro-bono work on the weekends.” Scott nodded. “It's sort of my way of keeping his memory alive.”

“That's fantastic,” Stiles smiled, a genuine one that made his dimples show.“I really can't believe it, Dr. Scott McCall is saving lives on a regular basis.”

“I know, I used to not be able to keep a rock garden alive,” Scott grinned back as he remembered he had his own knife and resumed chopping up lettuce. “But now I'm keeping horses alive on a daily basis. Still, it doesn't compare to what you're doing Dr. Stilinski. I'm saving Fido and you're saving Fido's owner.”

“Hey, we're both rock-”

“-Why are you here?” Scott winced. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like-”

“-He's here for Derek.” Stiles' father interrupted as he entered through the kitchen door and placed the platter of steaks he'd finished grilling on the large walnut table Stiles and Scott were sitting beside.

“D-Derek?” confusion filled Scott's face. “Derek Hale?”

“The one and only.” Linden Stilinski confirmed as he opened the fridge and pulled out the bottle of Hidden Valley as well as three beers.

“W-Why?!”Scott gaped at Stiles, who was busily chopping up the carrots with a little more force than necessary.

“Why do you think Scott?” Sheriff Stilinski said as he slapped down two cans of beer and the ranch dressing in-between Stiles and Scott before turning for plates.

“You're gonna help him recover from his accident?” Scott cocked his head. “Are you even far along enough in medical school to be useful in that way?”

“I'm not useful in a strictly medical way yet ,” Stiles agreed as he ignored the can of Budweiser, the three hour nap he'd taken earlier when he arrived home made him more alert but not completely sober. “I'm just going to help him jog his memory a little bit.”

“I would've let him continue on thinking he was a Disney Princess or some shit.”

“Which is why you work with animals instead people, your empathy needs a little work.” Stiles said with forced lightness.

“You still haven't told me why-”

“-If I didn't then Senator Hale would've revoked my tuition.” Stiles cut through blandly as he added the last of the carrots. “I kind of had no choice in the matter.”

“Oh!” Scott relaxed as he popped open his beer and took a healthy swig. “Good. I thought you were still in love with him or something.”

“Nope, my coming back here is strictly on a monetary basis.” Stiles assured him.

“Too bad it can't be for family and friends.” Sheriff Stilinski commented as he turned and pulled out the Styrofoam plates from a cupboard.

“Dad-”

“-I'm not judging or blaming you.” Stiles' dad plopped the package of plates down and undid the knot. “It's just-”

“-We just miss you, that's all.” Scott supplied. “It's not the same here without you, I feel like I'm missing an arm when you're not here.”

“I-”

“-And I feel like I'm missing my son.” added Sheriff Stilinski. “I know Stiles, I visit you in the summer, but it's not the same as having you here, back in your room and studying at Stanford.”

“I-I wish-”

“I know,” Sheriff Stilinski smiled sadly. “Pass the salad would you Scott?”

 

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The next morning Stiles found himself getting dressed in his old room, a heady experience because it was literally just how he left it five years ago. As he slipped on a crimson Harvard tee-shirt Stiles couldn't help but be swept up in bittersweet nostalgia. The Call of Duty posters, Fall Out Boy cd's and Harry Potter books told of a person that wasn't present anymore, he stilled loved Harry but the boy who viewed everything with a strong sense of excited openness was dead and buried. His bedroom felt like a shrine, and he was more than ready to escape it.

After he pulled on a pair of faded jeans Stiles made his way to the kitchen, his brown hair still wet from his morning shower. Stiles passed a myriad of pictures that littered the hallway, his mother dominating in the majority of the frames. Stiles couldn't help but be reminded of all the happier times he'd experienced in this house, the Christmases and birthdays, eating Thanksgiving dinner with his dad while they watched the game. Sadness joined nostalgia as Stiles started to walk down the stairs at the end of the hall, a deep crushing depression that Stiles had trouble shaking now.

Stiles' father's words from yesterday rang loudly in his mind while he continued down the steps. He loved being at Harvard studying medicine, it was an Ivy League and people would sell off their firstborn to attend those. He just...he easily saw himself at college in California. Stiles could see himself going to the aforementioned Stanford or UCSF, living somewhere where the drive home wasn't an eight hour flight away.

But for all of that to happen, he would've needed to never had met Derek at all. Stiles shook his head, he refused to let being back here in Beacon Hills affect him this way, to have it bring up all the _should_ ' _ve would_ ' _ve could_ ' _ve_ emotions. He wasn't here to reflect in the past and drown in it's depths, he was here to remind Derek of all the misery he'd caused him. He was here to tell Derek of the pain he had put him through senior year, that heartbreaking time that culminated into a heinous night Stiles would never forget.

The past now fastened tightly and cleanly polished in the forefront of his mind, Stiles finished descending down to the first floor and crossed the living room for the kitchen. It was a respectable seven in the morning and Stiles could hear his father snoring heavily in the den, to wake him up Stiles started up the coffeemaker and put a few doughnuts in the microwave for a few seconds. As the smell of a typical Stilinski breakfast filled the air, Stiles nibbled on a room temperature doughnut and wondered what was the least amount of visitation he could give Derek and not get into trouble with his family.

Stiles couldn't control a sneer from crossing his face as he chewed sugary pasty and thought about just how he would accomplish the task currently at hand. Senator Hale hadn't actually dictated just how he'd help Derek, hadn't actually given him a set schedule. If it were up to Stiles, he'd arrive during the end of visiting hours and stay for precisely ten minutes giving Derek the Cliff-Notes version. Derek wasn't even his patient, Stiles didn't owe it to him to be gentle and kind, to hold his hand as he traveled with him down memory lane. He-

-DING! DONG!

Stiles jerked, the doorbell yanking him out of his increasingly dark thoughts. He had another bite of his doughnut as he walked back through the living room towards the front door, thoughts of who could be on the front porch filling his mind. When he opened the door, he instantly wished that he'd didn't.

“Oh fantastic, you're already awake and dressed.” Peter said as he breezed past Stiles. “I honestly thought that you'd be locked up in your room or on the first bus to Tijuana by now.”

“Why Tijuana?” Stiles couldn't help but ask, his words slightly muffled by Krispy Kreme's. “Did I discover a bright and shiny new Versace knockoff that I'd just love to have?”

“Or a garbage bag full of weed that cost's like twenty bucks.” Peter said absently as he looked over the furnishings of the Stilinski home. “But the point of my little icebreaker was to say that I honestly believed that you couldn't do it and had left town under the cover of darkness.”

“Like I told your brother, I'm not a quitter.” Stiles said wearily. “I was blackmailed into helping you people so here I am, bright eyed and bush tailed.”

“Well, let's get to it Stiles.” Peter shook his car keys in Stiles' face. “Derek isn't getting his memory back any quicker with you standing here.”

 

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“I don't really need to look very much further, I don't want to have to go where you don't follow. I won't hold it back again-”

“- Please, Peter don't ruin Whitney Houston for me,” Stiles begged while Peter parked his cherry-red Mercedes in the hotel parking garage. “I love her, she is my mother's favorite singer. I really don't want to subconsciously associate Whitney with today, like have a Pavlovian response whenever this song come along.”

“I have nothing! Without you!” sang Peter as the song came to an end, deftly shutting off the engine. “Far be it for me to ruin Whitney Houston you Stiles, I was just trying to get you into the mood.”

“And what mood could that possibly be Peter?” Stiles gritted, hugely exasperated when he realized that the passenger side door was child-locked.

“Stiles, I need you to drop the attitude.” Peter stated bluntly.

“What?!” gasped Stiles.

“Derek is extremely fragile right now, I want you to be extremely aware of that.” Peter continued. “Derek...ever since I called you in March he's closed down a smidge. In the past two months, he's completely stopped talking to his sisters, to me. The only thing the psychiatrist can accurately tell us is that Derek thinks it's still 2007.”

“That's the-”

“-Year all that shit went down, you are correct Stiles.” Peter nodded. “Derek's last clear memory is the republican banquet.”

“Why am I here really Peter?” Stiles pleadingly whispered. “Why haven't any of you just told Derek what happened back then and leave me out of this?”

“We did.” Peter answered with a heavy sigh. “After Derek regained consciousness and he responded to the doctors, he asked for you the moment he could speak again. It was odd because for obvious reasons but the intensity in the way he'd asked for you gave all of us pause. When we told him the reason why we couldn't contact Stiles Stilinski and why your help wouldn't be forthcoming, he became...enraged. He said we were lying, that Marcus was using the accident as a way to keep you two apart. When we persisted with the truth he stopped.”

“Stopped?” Stiles asked despite himself.

“He stopped working with the physical therapists, he stopped talking to the shrinks, he stopped eating.” Peter ran a tired hand down his face. “Whenever we try to visit he screams at us and throws his food until we leave.”

“Why is he doing all of that?”

“We think he knows subconsciously that we're telling the truth, but his rational mind can't process it.” Peter explained as he clicked oped the doors. “So that means you're going to be the one who has to tell him. In your own words Stiles and for as many times as it takes, _gently_ you're going to explain why you're going to college in Massachusetts and why you are not in a relationship with him. You don't have to be syrupy sweet and please don't lie, but you will tell the truth, is that crystal clear Stiles?”

 

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Stiles felt his stomach quickly become even more queasy while he waited with Peter for the elevator to take them to the neurology ward. He didn't know whether it was because his worst nightmare was rapidly becoming reality or because the last time he was in Beacon Hills Memorial it was graduation night, but Stiles was feeling super nervous. Being back here at the hospital made it all the more real to Stiles, he was dismayed to realize. The artificial lemony smell of the hospital, the outdated paintings that hung from the walls, it did nothing to lessen the impact that he was meeting the one person he'd chop off his arm not to meet. When the elevator dinged open, Stiles felt like he was walking with Peter to his death.

Stiles tried to corral his rambling thoughts while he and Peter walked down the ICU ward of the neurology floor. This floor was more silent than the others, which was understandable given that the majority of the patients were currently deep in comas. When the duo came upon the private room that had the name Hale taped on the door, Stiles honestly felt like he was going to faint.

“Here we go Stiles,” Peter said as he pushed open the door. “Are you ready?”

 _NO!_ Stiles mentally screamed while he followed Peter into the room.

The Price Is Right was showing on the mounted television as the door clicked behind them. Stiles ignored Drew Carey's description of a hot tub while he tunneled on the reason he was here. Derek was fast asleep, and he looked awful. His shirtless torso was a collage of bloodied bandages and and pads, a his left arm and leg were encased in casts that had his limbs sticking out in sharp angles. Stiles couldn't look at his face, wouldn't look upwards at his visage so he settled for his right arm. It had a couple of IV's, his hospital bracelet an-

“-Wake up!” Peter said after he briskly crossed the small room and slapped Derek hard on his face.

Derek gasped awake, the left side of his face a swollen black monstrosity that was covered in scabs. Stiles could only stand there, frozen as Derek's bloodshot emerald eyes lazered on him.

“Stiles.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the holidays, here is part four...

“Derek.” Stiles said awkwardly while Peter deftly turned around and exited the hospital room to give the two some privacy. He didn't know what to say, didn't have anything concrete to respond with, so he settled on the inane and obvious. “H-How, um, how a-are you?”

“Stiles, I knew you'd come.” Derek's voice was a hoarse whisper while he gazed at his ex-boyfriend, he looked at Stiles the same way Lydia would look at a pair of brand new Louboutins. “I knew you wouldn't leave me here alone.”

“I...Well, here I am.” Stiles racked his mind for a way to make Derek stop staring at him that way, like he was still the man Stiles fell in love with. Seeing Derek Hale like this, horribly injured and half-encased in white plaster, it was both disturbing and extremely gratifying. Stiles felt like his entire being was being ripped in two, one half was alarmed that Derek was in such a grievous state, the other part of him wanted to yank the pillow from underneath Derek and finish off the job the crash started. He wanted to, Stiles could literally feel the cool cotton of the pillow underneath his fingertips, but Peter's words about gentleness and tact rang in his ears and stopped him. That and the fact he was too pretty to go to prison.

“Stiles...I know why you weren't exactly...thrilled...to come visit me.” Derek yanked Stiles out of his brief fantasy of pinching Derek's oxygen tube shut and letting him choke to death.

“R-Really?” Stiles fought hard not to laugh hysterically in Derek's face, the moment more surreal than anything he could imagine . “You d-do?”

“T-The banquet Stiles,” A powerful look of regret joined Derek's lovestruck gaze. “You're mad about the banquet.”

“Mad?” Stiles raised a quizzical eyebrow as he cast his mind back five years. “Why would I be ma- _oh_. Her.”

“I didn't know you were going to be there, Stiles you have to believe me.” Derek explained pleadingly. “I was only there because-”

“-Derek it's alright.” Stiles cut through with a sharp headshake and sigh. “I'm not mad about that-well I used to be-but I'm not anymore. Anyway its all in the past, I know who your father is and that he doesn't take no for an answer about anything. If I were in your shoes I would've taken a beard to the hypocrite party too.”

“So you're not mad anymore about the fact that I took Kate to that banquet instead of you?” Derek asked. “Because you were plenty angry when you saw us arrive together.”

“You're right Derek, I was angry seeing you with... _her_.” Stiles quickly agreed, the subject of Kate Argent was a welcome and safe place to focus on. It bolstered his sense of purpose, seeing that...that... _Kate_ in Stiles' minds eye didn't make him feel like he was drowning in memories the longer this conversation with Derek went. “I was _pissed_. I thought that I knew you Derek. I really thought that you were...someone...I could love, someone who could love me back. But I was wrong Derek, about a lot of things, about you.”

“Stiles it was just a banquet,” Derek weakly protested. “It's not...it wasn't that serious, I was only trying to protect you from Marcus.”

“I know, Derek I've met your father before remember?” Stiles pointed out. “Be-”

“If you're not upset with my choice of dinner partner Stiles, why did it take over two months for you to come here, to come home?” Derek asked, confusion making his voice stronger.

“Because it's true Derek,” Stiles focused on Derek's IV stand as he said it, so he wouldn't have to see Derek's reaction. “Everything your family told you about us...it's all true.”

“NO!” Derek's enraged bark made Stiles' gaze land right back on him. Derek winced and used his non-injured hand to cradle his bandaged left ribs before continuing. “Stiles, I don't know how Marcus got you to say that or why-”

“-Derek.” Stiles quietly stopped Derek's rapid-fire sentence. “I wouldn't lie to you, to anyone, not about something like this.”

“S-So I-”

“-Didn't believe me when I told you that those bastards you called your friends, your goddamn Wolfpack, had beaten me into the ground and then tried to kill me by shoving me into the Pacific Ocean?” Stiles said with acid sweetness. “You did, that and more.”

 

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“Stiles!”

“Wait Stiles!”

“STILES!”

Stiles ignored Peter's shouts as the elevators doors of the ICU closed and he descended to the first floor, his two hour conversation with Derek still replaying vividly in his mind. It was horrible, Stiles' sense of vengeance and retribution was tarnished by Derek's devastated face and his steam of tears while Stiles told him all about graduation night. Stiles had thought this would finally give him some misguided closure, that when he'd face the source of his heartbreak and remind Derek all the misery he'd inflicted on him, he'd be able to move on completely from this miserable experience. Reliving that night with an amnesic Derek was supposed to remind Stiles that Derek wasn't the person he'd thought he was, that when he truly needed his help, it was for another and not him. Coming back here to the hospital Stiles was supposed to be exactly like Lydia, a cold emotionless bitch. Instead he felt awful, he felt sad, he wanted to help Derek. He couldn't believe it.

The elevator dinged open and Stiles walked across the lobby towards the exit, unseeing of the patients and their families. Once he was standing in the courtyard, Stiles stumbled his way over to a stone bench and collapsed down, the fresh air doing nothing to help slow his spinning head. He didn't know much but he did know that he didn't want to come here again, to claw open old wounds that didn't need touching. He-

“And like clockwork the worm has returned, ready for another bite at the bruised apple.” Stiles blinked up, momentarily thrown as Jackson Whittemore sat down beside him. “I knew eventually thought that you would try to bore your way back to Derek Stiles.”

“ Jackson, I would say it's nice to see you again,” Stiles said as he took in Jackson's clerical collar and black suit. “But I'd be lying to a wannabe priest and I kinda don't want that on my mind right now.”

“Sodomite, why are you here at the hospital?” Jackson asked.

“I was just going to ask you the very same question.” Stiles commented. “Don't you have to go touch little boys in a small dark closet or exorcise a demon?”

“ Stiles, the only demon I see is you.” sniffed Jackson. “You infected a strong Christian man with your perversions, made him weak and vulnerable to-”

“-How quickly we forget our true natures,” Stiles smiled venomously at Jackson. “It honestly escaped me before now, but I remember that you had a little crush on Derek, that you wanted his Christian dick the same way a fat kid wants cake.”

“T-That's that's p-preposterous!” sputtered Jackson. “I-”

“-Faggot please,” Stiles giggled, Jackson's awfulness just the thing to take his mind off of the awfulness of Derek. “I know another dick slurper when I see one. I remember how jealous you were when you'd see us together Jackson, you wanted to know how Derek's knob taste, which is understandable because he is hotter than an Abercrombie and Fitch shopping bag. If I did-”

“-I won't sit here and get slandered to by the likes of you.” Jackson started with an immense amount of self-righteousness.

“Then why do you continue to interrupt my moment of quiet with your unwanted presence?” questioned Stiles. “And besides, if you're going to try to sit down and talk to me like we're best girlfriends or some bullshit, then you deserve to get so much more than slandered.”

“Stiles-”

“-Jackson get away from me, now, before I do something stupid.” Stiles warned.

“Like what?” scoffed Jackson.

“Like pick up one of these handy and hand sized river rocks and use it to beat your face until your skull cracks like an egg.” Stiles responded with the studied calm of wrathful vengeance. “Lucky for you we're sitting in front of a hospital so help is but a few feet away. If I were you I'd go away before I'd have to use their services.”

 

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_Stiles exited the bathroom of the dining hall, grudgingly complementing the plush red towels and arrangement of high-end colognes the bathroom attendant had with him. Stiles made his way back towards his table, smelling of Dior Homme while he navigated the assortment of Republicans being republican. He was only a few feet away from his father and their table when he saw them._

_Derek looked like a cover of a romance novel, his tuxedo fit him perfectly, his bowtie expertly knotted. She fit him like a glove, statuesque and lithe to his rangy and muscular build, draped in a royal blue gown that complemented her auburn streaked chestnut hair. Stiles felt like the high schooler he was while he watched them, felt hot daggers pierce his heart as Derek laughed after something the woman said and tucked a stray tendril of hers behind her ear. He couldn't move, couldn't speak as he watched Derek lead his date to a table, Derek's hand resting comfortably on the small of her back._

_Stiles regained control of his body when the couple disappeared from his sight, regained his breath when a fellow banquet goer brushed alongside him. If Stiles were less in control of his emotions, he'd be bawling in front of all of these Bible thumping hypocrites, just unashamedly weeping. He wanted to, Stiles could feel the telltale pinpricks of tears, but he had enough self-respect and awareness not to do it before all the politicians who it a living hell for people like him to get married. So Stiles blinked rapidly as he rejoined his father, wasn't even splotchy or sniffling as he sat back down and picked his dessert fork back up. His facade of serenity was finishing hardening when Peter Hale sided up to their table._

_“Hello Deputy Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles.” Peter greeted, debonair in his navy Tom Ford tuxedo. “It's always welcome to see one of Beacon Hills' finest at these type of engagements.”_

_“District Attorney Hale.” Sheriff Stilinski nodded as he used a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I honestly wouldn't have tried to come if your brother hadn't invited me personally, well that and the fact that he said that there was supposed to be a full carving station here.”_

_“Which you've taken full advantage of.” Stiles cocked an eyebrow at his dad's third steak, eager for something to take his mind off of what he'd just seen._

_“I did, and it was delicious.”_

_“So Stiles, how's life at Beacon Hills High going?” Peter swiftly inquired. “I know senior year can be the most stressful s one for a student such as yourself.”_

_“It's going great actually,” Stiles responded a tad hesitantly. “We're touring colleges now and are narrowing our choices down.”_

_“Oh,” Peter arched an eyebrow. “Which Colleges are you considering?”_

_“UCLA, Stanford or Berkeley.” Stiles answered, unsure why Peter Hale was displaying any interest in his post high school plans._

_“Those are quite the high level colleges Stiles, good for you.”_

_“He's been offered a full academic scholarship to Stanford.” Stiles' dad chimed in. “I'm very proud of him.”_

_“Have you now?” Peter smiled at Stiles without showing his teeth. “Are you going to accept the scholarship and go to school at Stanford?”_

_“If we don't we're probably going to have to go the student loans and grants route, which we don't want to do.” Stiles shrugged. “Plus it's Stanford and not Beacon Hills Community College, was where I originally thought I was going.”_

_“Well Stiles it's lucky that you've chosen to attend tonight,” Peter said. “My nephew's girlfriend is finishing up her psychiatry degree at Stanford, maybe she'll be able to give the ins and outs of the place.”_

_“Who is sh-your nephew?” Stiles caught himself from revealing that he knew even who Derek Hale was, remembering that they lived in different social spheres and all that. “And by-the-way his girlfriend?”_

She's not a saint and she's not what you think, she's an actress, whoa!!

“Oh God,” Stiles groaned awake, Taylor Swift blaring from his teenaged cheeseburger alarm clock. “At this rate there won't be a singer I can listen to.”

 

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Stiles didn't know why he was standing here in front of the entrance to the hospital. That was a lie, he did know why, Stiles was there to see Derek again. He felt so horrible about yesterday, leaving Derek crying and broken in his hospital bed. Stiles didn't want to become some horrible bitch who delights in the misery of others, no matter how much they deserved it. He didn't want to let what happened to him be the thing that finally disintegrates what remains of his heart after his mother died, and have Derek be the person that does it. He needed to dig deep inside himself and remind himself that yes, he did love Derek, that he was once his entire world. Plus, if he was going to be any type of competent doctor, then he was going to have to learn how interact with the worst of humankind and treat their ailments.

So Stiles retraced his steps to the Neurology Ward, coming up with icebreakers and apologizes as he made his way to the elevators. Stiles didn't leave the hospital in the best of sorts yesterday. The mic he'd dropped on Derek wasn't a soft one, and one that after he dropped it he wished he didn't. He knew he could've been softer, broken what happened between them gently. He just wanted for Derek to stop talking like he loved him, stop acting like the past was a horrible dream, which was his most treasured and destructive fantasy.

Stiles soon found himself back on unnaturally quiet ward, the nurses not making a sound as they tended to the patients. He soon found himself in front of Derek's hospital room door, hesitant to push open the door like before. Stiles gathered his courage and pushed open the door, resolute in helping Derek remember and rebuild his life, then leaving on the first plane back to Cambridge soon after.

Derek wasn't in the room but a woman was, head down as she flipped through Vogue magazine. When Stiles closed the door she glanced up, confusion filling the left hazel eye that wasn't covered in bangages. She looked familiar to Stiles, her long chestnut hair highlighted with auburn, her simple Calvin Klein dress impeccably tailored.

“What is this?” She demanded. “What are you doing in my husband's room?”

“I-I'm looking for Derek-”

“-Well I'm his wife Kate,” Kate cut through. “And you are?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part five hope you enjoy!

“ _Going into medicine I hope.” Stiles responded as best he could, mind frozen at the fact that he was making small talk with his boyfriend's female date about his future major at his chosen college that she was also attending. He felt strangled, by his haphazardly knotted tie, by the idiotic lie Derek created and what he was now maintaining against his will. Stiles wanted to say so many things to Kate Argent the psychiatry major, ask her just how long she was dating Derek and if it were longer than the four years he'd spent getting to know every inch of Derek's body. He wanted to sip his disgusting cucumber water and ask Kate Argent if she knew her dapper boyfriend liked to suck his dick and play with his balls until he was writhing hard against Derek's crisp cotton sheets and begging Derek to fuck him hard. He want to say it, but the pleading glances Derek was shooting his way from beside Kate gave him pause._

_“Have already decided on your specialty?” Kate asked._

_“Oncology.”_

_“Which is one of the more emotionally trying specialties.” Kate arched an eyebrow. “I hope you're ready Stiles, you know it's not all bisections and lab work.”_

_“I'm well aware of the emotional impact that comes with being a cancer doctor Kate.” Stiles responded before begrudgingly adding.”My mother died of ovarian cancer when I was ten, she's part of the reason why I'm interested in cancer and knowing how best to treat it.”_

_“Regardless of the reason Stiles, it's still a very admirable choice.” Kate smiled._

_“Speaking of admirable choices,” Stiles returned Kate's polite facial twitch with a stressed and freaked out version of his own. “Your date tonight is really handsome, like a GQ model. How did you two kids meet exactly, if you don't mind me asking?”_

_Derek jerked at that question but Kate smiled, a real one that made her eyes sparkle and lean against the white linen tablecloth. Being so close to Kate and all of her femaleness made Stiles want to behave just like a Real Housewife and flip over the elegantly set table. She made Stiles want to scream profanities at her date and demand that Derek tell him why he was dating a woman and didn't inform him of that small fact._

_“We met two years ago,” Kate gushed. “Our fathers were roommates in prep school, so we grew up together. I don't exactly know how it happened,one day our families were spending Thanksgiving together and when he passed the mashed potatoes...”_

_“You fell in love over the cranberry sauce?” Stiles supplied, teeth gritted into a parody of a smile._

_“We did,” Kate said as she lovingly flicked a gaze over to an increasingly stone faced Derek. “After we kissed on the patio, we've just been inseparable ever since I guess.”_

_“That's so...great for you.” Stiles quickly rose from his seat, desperate to get away-now. “Kate I'd love to stay and discuss Stanford with you more, but I really need to take a trip to the restroom, this cucumber water has ran right through me.”_

_“I need to go visit the head as well,” Derek interjected quickly. “I'll walk with you there Stiles.”_

_That's how Stiles found himself being led out of the dining hall with Derek as an escort. He barely noticed that Derek had a hand clasped around his elbow, or the puzzled glance his father shot his way as he left the room. No, Stiles was concerned with preserving his rapidly decaying aura of straightness and face that didn't scream, 'I was betrayed!'_

_“Stiles,” Derek started once he'd frogmarched the pair of them into an empty conference room the Beacon Hills Westin had._

_“Derek.” Stiles parroted, yanking his arm away and ignoring Derek's pleading tone as he collapsed into a swivel chair and tried his damnedest not cry in front of his soon to be ex._

_“I don't know what so say-”_

_“-So say nothing.” Stiles quietly interrupted, eyes watering with the need to let loose and bawl. “Derek, I won't play the devastated boyfriend and ask you something stupid like why did you cheat on me with her, because I already know about you and your need to appear nice and heterosexual for your family.”_

_“Stiles-”_

_“-Derek I know,” Stiles continued on. “Why we don't hold hands in the mall, why we can't kiss at Burger King or even go to the movies together. I know why it's out of the picture for you to publically call me your boyfriend or for you to introduce me to your friends and family, Derek I've always known about the many reasons. And thanks to having a lovely conversation with your girlfriend, I also know that I can't do this anymore, knowing about Derek Hale.”_

_“Stiles she's nobody, I swear to God.” Derek rushed to explain as he sat down beside Stiles. “My dad was back here for one of his monthly visits and he kept hounding me about why I didn't have a girlfriend, why I only go to parties with the academy cadets and don't spend my free time on dates. So, he ambushed me with her at that Thanksgiving Kate kept going on about, Stiles I didn't have a choice-”_

_“-But to kiss her and I'm assuming fuck the bitch,” Stiles shook his head with a sneer. “No that's wrong for me to say, she's not a bitch, that's what you are.”_

_“STILES!” Derek barked. “I really had no-”_

_“You could've told the truth to your family,” Stiles pointed out quietly. “You could've said that you were dating me, a straight A student with non-existent athletic endeavors who just happened to have a penis. Or you could've stuck to your repertoire of lies and just say that you weren't attracted to her, that you preferred obese Asian women instead of pretty brunettes. There was a lot of things you could've done Derek instead of sleeping with her and making me think that you were loyal, that there was a door in your house of glass you wouldn't open.”_

_“Stiles, if I could go back-”_

_“But you can't,” Stiles smiled sadly. “You can only press forward, Lance Armstrong taught me that.”_

_“Stiles, I love you.”_

_“Twenty minutes ago I would've loved to hear you say that to me.”Stiles shuddered out a breath. “But unfortunately, I realize now that it's not enough, that having you love me-”_

_“Stiles,” Derek begged as he reached out and grabbed the arms of Stiles' chair to pull him closer. “If you'd just listen-”_

_“I've already listened to you,” Stiles pushed away from Derek. “For almost four years I've listened, to your explanations and your myriad of excuses. I've realized that you come with special rules, that if I wanted to date you I'd have to accept that you are deep in the closet and were quite happy to be there. But I'm not though, in the closet, not at all. I've been out and proud since middle school Derek, I'm the president of my school's Gay Straight Alliance.”_

_“That's great for you!” Derek ran frantic fingers through his hair. “But Stiles, not everyone can wave a rainbow flag and sashay down the fucking street like RuPaul. Some people have to remain quiet, and-”_

_“-Sleep with and delude women that you aren't in love with or attracted to.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “ Derek I don't care anymore, I really don't. Seeing your girlfriend tonight has made me realize that I want more than be a secret only you know about. I want to love someone and have that someone love only me and not be ashamed or nervous about it.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“But not enough to stand up to your father.” Stiles said. “And I don't even want that, not really. You could've stayed in the closet all your life and lied your ass off to your father, I wouldn't give a shit about that because what you speak to your father about is your business. It's when you try to legitimize those lies with a beard, that's when I have an issue about your situation. When you don't tell me you have a beard and I have to be ambushed in front of Republicans, when I have to make small talk with her and not inform her that I'm really dating you, then I can't be apart of that anymore.”_

_“I'll dump Kate, I'll tell her it's over-”_

_“-But there's always going to be another Kate.” Stiles said as he rose from his chair. “There's always going to be another blind date, another ambush, another setup because you can't say that you're dating me. That's hurting my soul, I can't be the dirty little secret anymore. I-mumph!”_

_Stiles was unprepared as Derek surged up from his chair and gathered him up in his arms. Wile Derek devoured his lips he felt the spark, that same electricity that made Stiles' knees weak and wrap his arms around Derek's tuxedo clad shoulders. He was lost in the feel of Derek, the taste of him intoxicating as ever and making him forget all of his grievances against Derek. When Derek reached down to wrap Stiles' leg around his waist, that was the time Stiles came back to himself._

_“Stop it,” Stiles panted as he reared back and untangled his fingers from Derek's hair. Stiles shoved Derek back as he tried to stop himself from kissing him again and maintain his whirlwind thoughts that were telling him that breaking up with Derek was a terrible idea.“I'm not going to do this anymore Derek, have makeouts sessions in coat closets and you not acknowledge me afterward because your dad is this evil hater of gays and the poor.”_

_“He's my father.” Derek said, pained. “No matter how...republican...he is, my father is my father and I love him, I don't know if I could be able to c-choose between the-”_

_“-I'm not asking for that, for you to choose between us, I'd never ask that from you.” Stiles said wearily. “But what I will ask you is that for this to over, this exercise in futility and homophobia. I don't need this version of torment in my life, I already get that from the assholes at school. I don't want my boyfriend and his family to make me feel like I'm less than a person because of who I choose to be with._

-I NEED YOUR LOVE I NEED YOUR TOUCH, WHEN EVERYTHING'S WRONG YOU MAKE IT-

Stiles jerked out of memory lane, Ellie Goulding chiming loud in his dad's beat up old Dodge Ram. He reached into his pocket and took out his Galaxy, feeling mentally whiplashed as his boyfriend name appeared on his screen.

“Hey babe!” Ethan said after Stiles slid the green button.

“Hi,” Stiles smiled with only a trace of guilt as he glanced around the hospital parking lot. “Ethan I was just about to call you, how's Manhattan been treating you?”

“Boring, you've been to one gallery opening in Tribeca you've been to them all.” Ethan responded. “I wish you were here with me, I'd love to show you around my hometown sometime.”

“Me too, my only reference for New York City is Gossip Girl and Home Alone 2.”

“I'd also love for you to show me around sunny Beacon Hills.”

“Beacon Hills isn't sunny,” Stiles laughed. “We're north of Redding, so think Portlandia instead of Entourage.”

“So we can ski then?”

“If we were here during the winter then yes I suppose we could,” Stiles said. “Other wise we'd just have to settle for San Francisco or going six hours to Disneyland.”

“We'll make it a trip then.”

“Yeah, Disneyland is beautiful in December.”

“Or in May.”

“What's so special about Disneyland in May?” Stiles wondered.

“We'd be there together, that'll make it special.” Ethan explained before continuing on. “Stiles I wanted it to be a surprise and special like in a movie but my rental car won't be ready until tomorrow and I'll touch down in two more hours.”

“What?” Stiles furrowed his brow at his phone.

“Stiles I'm coming to visit you,” Stiles could hear Ethan's smile over the phone. “The parents are going to Greece this summer and I wanted to spent summer with you instead of here in this empty apartment alone or watching Greece collapse with them.”

“Y-You're coming here?” Stiles said as the knowledge of where he was started to make his eyes twitch.

“In two hours, so start getting your dad's truck going.” Ethan confirmed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part six, it's also when the train leaves the station so all aboard!

“So you've never told Ethan about Derek!?” Lydia gasped over the phone while Stiles drove to the airport. “Stiles how could you?”

“I've told him about Derek Lydia,” Stiles defended himself as Beacon Hills raced past him. “I just left out some of the more unnecessary details because I didn't think they mattered at the time.”

“Details like what?”

“Well, I left out the end of senior year and our graduation but-”

“-So you really didn't tell him anything important, you kept it light and about the weather?” Lydia replied, neutrally but full of her trademark judgment.

“I told Ethan about that godawful banquet I spent with Derek and his girlfriend, said that's the reason why when we broke up.” Stiles admitted. “ Lydia it was at the beginning when I lied to him, we had just started getting serious and were at the talking about exes phase. I just, I really liked him but I didn't want to rehash every skeleton in my closet, especially skeletons that dealt with the black hole that is Derek. So I-”

“-I'm not judging you Stiles-”

“Really!” Stiles snorted.

“Okay, so I'm judging you a little.” Lydia conceded. “I'm not so wonderful though that I can't see myself doing the same exact thing if I were in your position. I mean, what happened to you isn't exactly something you'd share over glasses of Chardonnay.”

“But...”

“But when we were referring to each other as 'my boyfriend' and deciding on places to live, I'd have mentioned the ex in full before then.” Lydia commented. “Stiles, not telling Ethan about Derek after this long is admitting that Derek still has a hold over you and your heart, that he still has the capacity to hurt you.”

“Lydia he doesn't.” Stiles said firmly, determined for that to be true. “Besides, it's not like Derek was waiting by the phone for me or something, he got _married_ Lydia. To a woman.”

“HE'S WHAT?!”

“Yes Lydia, married.” Stiles confirmed over Lydia's shocked inhale. “Remember Kate, the woman who was with Derek at the banquet? Well they got hitched.”

“B-But why?” Lydia sounded almost as confused as Stiles felt. “How?”

“I don't know Lydia.” Stiles said, exasperated. “It's not like I stayed with her to chat about her summer plans.”

“You've met her again?!” gasped Lydia.

“About half an hour ago,” Stiles shuddered as he drove down the road that led to the airport. “Oh my god Lydia it was like I was on an episode of The Young and The Restless, all I could do was turn around a make a break for the elevators.”

“ So what, she didn't recognize you?” Lydia wondered. “If I already met my husband's high school gay lover I don't think that I'd forget him that easily.”

“Lydia I don't know why she didn't remember me.” Stiles said as he drove into Alexander Harris Way. “Maybe she was being passive aggressively bitchy or maybe I wasn't a big deal in her life like she was in mine. Remember she was all the way in Stanford during our senior year, plus what happened with Derek and the wolfpack had already been sealed and settled long before we graduated, there's no reason why he'd have to tell his beard who I was or what happened to me..”

“So where are you now?”

“ Lydia where do you think I am, I'm driving to-” Stiles sucked in a stressed breath and tried not to think too deeply about the most traumatizing and awkward five minutes of his life. “I don't know why I'm even here, his family made it seem like he had no one, that he was completely alone. If he has a wife then that must mean I'm home free right?”

 

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“So Ethan, there's something I have to tell you.” Stiles tried not to stammer as he watched his boyfriend enjoy a third helping of Ms. Boyd's chocolate chip pie. Ever since they arrived from the airport Stiles racked his brain for a smooth and non-devious sounding way to explain to Ethan why he was really back in Beacon Hills. There wasn't one forthcoming so Stiles decided to just jump in.

“I-”

 

“- Stiles does what you have to say to me has something to do with your ex?” Ethan asked casually around a mouthful of chocolate.

“Yes it does.” Stiles blinked, shocked that Ethan already knew. “Derek...he's been in a car accident and has amnesia because of it, I'm supposed to be here to jog his memories. Plus I couldn't say no and refuse to help because if I did, I'd be massively in debt due to his father revoking my tuition-”

“-He paid for your tuition?” Ethan took another bite of pie as he gazed at Stiles with confusion, eyes distant as Ethan remembered something. “Why would he pay for your college tuition?”

“...Ethan I promise that I'll tell you why another time.” Stiles said uncomfortably. “That's a story that'll require something more than chocolate, like chocolate flavored vodka.”

“So, are you still in love with him?” Ethan asked quietly.

“No!” Stiles responded swiftly and firmly, desperate for Ethan to believe him. “Of course not. I loved him for a long time but not anymore, now my love is for-wait a minute. Ethan, how did you already know about Derek?”

“When you left Harvard a few weeks ago, Stiles you didn't pack up your things yourself, a moving company came and got your belongings.” explained Ethan. “After I moved past the gut wrenching fear that we were being robbed, I noticed the matching uniforms and asked who sent them, they said it was Senator Hale. Stiles I didn't know you were on such close terms with the senator that he'd have movers come pack your bags for you, let alone pay for Harvard.”

“We're not close and Ethan if you knew what I had to en-” Stiles bit his tongue and and exhaled through flared nostrils. “Ethan, it's your first night here and I truly don't want to spend it talking about my ex or his extremely homophobic father. I can't tell you enough times that the real reason, the only reason I'm here in Beacon Hills, is because that if I didn't I couldn't afford Harvard.”

“Stiles I believe you, it's just...weird.” Ethan admitted.

“It's so weird.” Stiles agreed, huffing out a breath. “It's disturbing and I want to forget everything about it.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

 

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“So Ethan tell me, what's it like being Scrooge McDuck rich?” Scott asked Stiles' boyfriend, the red wine he'd drunk made him even more candid and prone to asking people probing questions. “I imagine you had like all the Power Ranger action figures growing up and that you went around Frabreezing the homeless in your spare time.”

“I didn't like the Power Rangers,” Ethan easily responded. “I liked Captain Planet better, they helped save the planet and weren't just colors, they could each control an element.”

“Ethan, please just tell him.” Scott's wife Kira sighed as she sipped her diet Sprite. “If you give Scott a number I'm positive my drunken ass of a husband will stop being an ass until we all finish our dinner.”

“I'm not drunk Kira,” insisted Scott. “I'm just a little toasted and interested in the finances of one of my best friend's boyfriend.”

“Well Scott I'm not rich, my parents are the rich ones.” Ethan told him. “I don't even have a trust fund to fall back on.”

“Because you didn't want it, not because they didn't give it to you.”Stiles commented as he sipped his own glass of wine. “It's one of the many things that makes me admire and love you as well as silently...wonder...at your life choices.”

“You turned down money, Ethan, just on principle?” Scott gaped at Ethan, his voice loud enough for the other diners in the Italian restaurant. “That's such a rich people thing to do-Stiles why are you with him?”

“Because he's super hot and has a lovely penis.” Stiles calmly responded.

“Stiles!” Kira gasped, mock offended while her husband snorted. “We're eating dinner, so language please. Only a prostitute would describe a penis as lovely.”

Stiles was about to say something else when a flash of chestnut hair caught his eye. As he turned, Stiles' breath left him while he watched Kate Argent feed a little boy a piece of chicken finger. He looked young, only five or four, with jet black hair and bright green eyes. Stiles felt like someone placed a pot on his head and then whacked him hard with a two by four as he watched Derek's wife feed their son his dinner. Stiles hoped it was the glass and a half of wine he'd drunk that was making his heart pound and his head ring, not this sight of family dinner that was searing itself into his brain. He felt-

“-Stiles?”

“Yes?” Stiles shook his head and smiled at Ethan, contorting his face into something warm and false.

“Do you want a refill?” Ethan gestured to his half-empty glass.

“I..yes please.”

 

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“Stiles, I still can't believe this is what you wanted to spend our Saturday on.” Ethan lightly groused as he trailed behind his boyfriend in the Marvel section of Heroes Among Us, Beacon Hills premier comic book store. “We could've gone surfing, or hiked in the nature preserve and had a picnic by the waterfalls.”

“We've done all of that in the past two weeks.” Stiles pointed out as he browsed the stands for the latest X-Men comic. “We've also went boating on the lake with Scott and Kira as well as spent all day yesterday with them at the laser-tag complex. Ethan, while it was fantastic to see you laser slaughter Scott while Kira and I got hammered on snuggled booze, I've had as much physical activity as I can take. Now I want to buy myself all the Uncanny and Ultimate comics I can carry and then veg out for a couple of hours reading something that's not a textbook.”

“I understand wanting to relax Stiles, but who really wants to spend their last official summer vacation indoors reading, when they've spent the rest of the year reading?” Ethan asked.

“Hey, its been almost three years so you should know by now that unlike you I'm not an physical nerd Ethan, I'm an unrepentant stationary nerd.” Stiles defended himself. “I'm sorry that my idea of fun isn't risking my life paragliding or some other asinine form of entertainment.”

“I know who you are Stiles, you think getting high and watching Jeopardy should be an Olympic sport,” Ethan said as he wrapped his arms around Stiles and brushed his lips against Stiles' ear. “I just don't know why you don't rent the Avengers and spare yourself the eyestrain of reading tiny font?”

“Why don't you just watch the Lord of the Rings instead of reading those long dry ass books?” Stiles smiled as he turned his head towards Ethan.

“Touche,” Ethan murmured as he pressed a light kiss on Stiles' cheek. “I'll be the better boyfriend and forget your blasphemous words-”

“-As if telling me to watch the Avengers instead of reading the comic isn't offensive-”

“-If you'll hurry up and pick something.” Ethan finished. “We're wasting daylight and your dad wanted us to go fishing with him later.”

“Oh, is that today?” Stiles tried not to shudder too hard, the horrors of his seventh grade fishing trip with his father flashing through his mind. No amount of time could vanquish the trauma of watching fish blood fly through the air as his father gutted it.

“Yep, and I can't wait.” Ethan nodded as he pressed another kiss on Stiles' cheek. “So get a move on.”

“You'd think a rich kid who grew up on the Upper East Side wouldn't be so outdoorsy.”

“I know right?” Ethan gave Stiles another kiss before disengaging for The Desolation of Smaug display that had been set in the first floor of the bookstore.

Once he was alone Stiles refocused his attention on the plethora of comics and grapic novels again. As he wondered through the shelves Stiles debated whether or it not it would be acceptable to come down with a mild case of food poisoning in order to not go on the fishing trip slash interrogation. Ethan may have been only concerned with catching trout but Stiles could see for what it was, a two hour trip alone with his father, where Linden Stilinski would have all the time in the world to ask the two about their relationship. Stiles knew it came from love and a sense of not wanting lighting to strike twice, but he also didn't want his father to prod too much and disrupt the carefully constructed world he'd built with Ethan, one where the basis was built on half-truths and rug sweeping. But to be honest, being back in town had shaken loose the majority of Stiles' half-truths, had finally brought to light all the things he'd been too ashamed to voice in the beginning. Maybe being back home to see Derek was a good thing, a way to make his relationship with Ethan stronger-

“-Stiles!” Ethan caught his attention as he traveled back up the stairs, beaming as he grasped the hand of a small brunet little boy. “You'll never guess who I ran into, this is my godson DJ!”

Stiles could only stare in shocked horror, mouth slightly agape as he gawked at his ex's son with Kate Argent.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part seven, sorry for the wait. It's getting towards the end and ScreamedAloud has to think...

“Your godson?” Stiles said, inexplicably proud of himself for not stumbling over the godson bit. “Ethan since when do you have a godson?”

“Derek here and I go way back Stiles.” Ethan smiled as he reached down to ruffle the boy's hair. “His mom Kate used to be Aiden and I's babysitter growing up on the Upper East Side.”

“So you're the godfather to all of your childhood staff's children?” Stiles said with more than a hint of snap. He knew that he was being snarky but Stiles couldn't help it, standing so close to the living and breathing reminder of what his love with Derek couldn't produce together made Stiles want to throw things, a dangerous emotion that he channeled by being a complete and total bitch.

“Not all of them, just the ones who gave me hot cocoa and when I was nine, allowed me to watch Law and Order with her.” Ethan explained. “It was fine, we'd play 'Guess the Chelsea bartender pretending to be a lawyer' all night.”

“I-Is she here?” Stiles wondered, struck with the realization that they didn't arrive with a four year old to the comic book store. “Did she bring him here?”

“Dader brought me.” A small childlike voice interrupted their conversation. Stiles glanced down to see Derek Junior staring at him with bright green eyes.

“Dader?”

“That's what he calls me Stiles, God only knows why.” Stiles looked up to see Derek make his way from the elevators, his stride helped by his bright red cane and walking cast.

“Derek?!” Stiles gasped while he watched Derek make is way towards them.

“Derek?” Ethan parroted as he whipped his head towards what Stiles was gawking at.

“He doesn't call me Daddy or Father, just Dader which is strange.” Derek continued, his emerald gaze lasered in on Stiles. “No other words he mispronounces or misuses, but Daddy is the one that he stumbles on.”

“You're out of the hospital?” Stiles' eyes didn't have a safe place to land so he blinked at the cutout of Iron Man behind Derek. “How?”

“It's been almost six months since the accident, and about two weeks since I left the hospital” Derek shrugged. “I've always been a fast healer Stiles, coming here is part of my therapy, to reaccumulate myself with my life.”

“So you're starting to remember your past?” Ethan asked, brow furrowed as he flicked his gaze between DJ and his father.

“N..No.” Derek responded a little curtly, annoyance in his tone at the sound of Ethan's voice. “I'm don't really, just...shards...of things and places.”

“Do you have any memories of your so-family Derek?” Stiles couldn't help but ask, unsure if he wanted the answer to that particular question.

“I...no, not really no.” Derek stopped looking at Ethan like he was staring at a pile of diseased maggots to swing his gaze back towards Stiles. “Curly fries and the smell of baseball gloves are two things that have the strongest...sensation...in my memory.”

“Then I don't want to keep you from your son Derek, stop you from getting reunited with your son.” Stiles said uneasily, willing to do anything, sacrifice anything to get away from this surreal pairing with his ex and said ex's child.

“Would you two like to come to lunch with us?” Derek halted Stiles' retreat with a quick question.

“What?” Ethan and Stiles chorused together.

“Ethan I'd love for you to come with us and allow me to pick your brain about my...son.” Derek said with only the smallest amount of bite.

“And so your wife Kate can't help you fill in the gaps Derek?” Stiles wondered. “But my boyfriend can?”

“Kate is not in Beacon Hills, she's back to work in Manhattan.” explained Derek smoothly.

“She doesn't live here with you?” Stiles asked.

“If you'd come to lunch with us, I'll promise to tell you everything I know.”

“Great!” Ethan said as he clasped DJ's hand again. “I have some questions as well.”

 

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“Would any of you care for a drink or to take a glance at our wine list?”

“Do you have any Stoli?'

“We do. Including original we have blueberry, orange, cherry, pea-”

“-I'll have plain please.” Stiles nodded decisively. “And could you leave the bottle when you come back, thank you.”

“Stiles It's eleven in the morning, a little early for drinking during the day don't you think?” Derek said after the waitress left with their orders.

“When you're sitting with your ex and waiting for his son to come back from the restroom with your current boyfriend, I'd think you'd get a little buzzed too.” Stiles explained while he twisted his cloth napkin around his fingers, his nerves at being left alone again with Derek making a huge reappearance.

“Am I really such a monster that you have to be completely trashed to be near me?” Derek looked across the table at Stiles, sadness making emerald eyes dull.

“I...” Stiles didn't know what lie to say to Derek that wouldn't cause an argument or tears so he opted for the truth. “Yes. Looking at you is like looking at a werewolf.”

“Werewolf?”

“A person you think is human until they take off their mask and reveal the snarling beast within.” Stiles explained.

“I'm not a fucking werewolf!” Derek snapped causing a few patrons to look for the outburst.

“But you're not human either.” Stiles tossed down his napkin.

“I'm not evil or a goddamn werewolf because Stiles I love you.” Derek said passionately. “I have a heart and it beats for you, I've got lungs and they breathe only for you. Stiles, being in love with you is proof that I'm still alive and have a chance to make it right, instead of dying somewhere on the side of a road.”

“I..”

“Sorry we took so long,” Ethan saved Stiles from saying anything as he walked back towards the table with DJ. “DJ here had a little accident with the soap dispenser.”

 

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Stiles wasn't such a good person he couldn't admit to himself that he used to hate a four year old. Derek Christopher Hale was smart and shy, he loved Power Rangers and Beyblades, plus he was especially fond of older cartoons like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. If Stiles didn't know about his parentage he could easily see himself being friends with him, well, as friendly as a twenty-two year old man could be towards a small child. DJ uncomfortably reminded Stiles of himself when he was that age, quiet with a love of comics and heroes. Stiles didn't know when his heart softened, maybe it was during the time DJ asked him if he wanted to watch Justice League Unlimited with him or when they were outside playing Jedi with Ethan and Derek using sticks they found.

“I can't do it, it's too hard.” DJ huffed as he handed Stiles his phone back.

“I know, level nine is a tough one.” Stiles agreed ruefully while he restarted the game and prepared to start crushing candy. “I was hoping you'd get it so I wouldn't have to.”

“When is Dader going to come here?” DJ asked as he broke off a piece of Pop-Tart and popped it into his mouth.

“DJ, Derek's away at physical therapy.” Stiles said absently as he tried to match three yellow pieces of digital candy. “So it's going to be a while before he comes back, remember?”

“Can I stay here tonight?” DJ asked abruptly.

“W-What?” Stiles jerked his attention back towards DJ, astonishment making his heart miss a couple of beats. “Why do you wanna stay here?”

“I like you,” DJ boldly said. “and I don't like him.”

“W-Why don't you like your Father?” Stiles could barely get his question out.

“Dader's mean to me.” DJ mumbled quietly. “He never plays with me, not like you do, and I don't even think he likes me.”

“DJ of course he likes you! He's your father, Derek loves you,.” Stiles hastened to reassure DJ.

“He's-”

“-Now Stiles, why'd you give him a Pop-Tart!” Ethan whined as he walked in with an armful of Domino's Pizza.

 

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“Again, I want to thank you, for watching him.” Derek said quietly.

“It wasn't a problem, really.” Stiles said with a small smile. To avoid meeting Derek's stare Stiles fixed his gaze on the playground where DJ was playing with some of the other children. “DJ's pretty great actually, it's been awesome having him around the house this past month.”

“Has it really?” Derek asked a beat too casually. “I remember your boyfriend mentioned earlier that this was your last summer vacation before the rest of your med school started, so I don't think babysitting someone's kid wouldn't be the first thing on my relaxation list.”

“Well, driving to Sunnydale and going whitewater rafting with Ethan and Scott's friends isn't something I'd call relaxing either.” Stiles pointed out as he watched Ethan swing off the monkey bars. “So heading to a park today and watching DJ play was the lesser of two evils to me, though I admit when DJ called I thought it would be just the two of us.”

“Well Stiles, what parent would I be if I left my son with a complete stranger?” Derek smiled. “I will say that I am happy to hear that, I know having kids around can put a big crimp in your plans.”

“Has he put a crimp in yours?” Stiles felt himself looking at his ex, DJ's comment about Derek not liking him making a reappearance in his mind.

“No! No, he hasn't at all he-” Derek sighed as he rubbed his forehead wearily. “He feels...I just...”

“You just what?”

Derek worked his tongue across his teeth as he tried to put his feelings into words. “I just thought that if I ever had a kid, I'd remember them instantly, that my love for them would be able to overcome any head trauma I might have.”

“Derek it's only been five months and from what I've read amnesia takes-”

“-I remember Katy Perry.” interjected Derek.

“I-um-good for you Derek, Katy Perry's a great marketing scheme hidden in a pair of boobs?” Stiles didn't know how to respond to that.

“Stiles I'm tired of having fragments float around my mind without them connecting to anything important.” Derek rushed out. “It's getting so... _frustrating_...to have the entire plotline of Mean Girls etched inside my mind instead of my son's favorite snack or book. I stare at him sometimes and try to just will something back, anything important that could help me with rebuilding this shitshow that's my life apparently.”

“I'd wish-OW!” Stiles yelped as a Frisbee hit him in the back of his head. Stiles mentally imagined a meteor crashing down and killing all the children as he reached down and picked up the bright green disc.

“-Oh I'm sor-Stiles...and Derek!” Stiles tried not to curse out loud like a drunken sailor as Jackson Whittemore made his way over towards them, looking like the repressed Jesus freak he was with his pressed khakis and blue polo shirt.

“Jackson,” Stiles tried not to spit on Jackson's pristine cross-trainers. “I'd say nice to meet you, but I'd-”

“-Be lying.” Jackson finished. He didn't so much as smile as twitched his face. “Likewise. I didn't know that you were still...helping...Derek Stiles.”

“Why would you know?” Derek asked, confusion making his tone harsher. “Jackson, the last time I checked we weren't even acquaintances.”

“I wouldn't call us friends, but I would call us friendly children of God.” admitted Jackson. “You're a parishioner in my church Derek, we've spent countless hours over the past four years discussing your willingness to uphold your standing in the eyes of the Lord.”

“Jackson, I'm sure you have.” Stiles smirked. “I'm sure all those hours alone was just what Jesus wanted for the both of you.”

“So you can imagine the...concern...I felt when I looked up and saw you conversing with the agent of your destruction.” Jackson continued on.

“Agent of destruction?!” Stiles could only giggle at the absurdity. “That's seriously the nicest thing you've ever said to me Jackson.”

“I might not know anything about the last five years of my life Jackson, but I do know that I stopped believing in God when I was eight.” Derek said. “I wouldn't talk to you about my standing with the Lord because I don't have one.”

“Oh Derek, everyone has standing and a place in the Lord's kingdom.” Jackson reassured Derek. “But Jesus only comes to the ones who are steadfast in his word, in the vision of the world that his father created.”

“So Jackson, are you being steadfast?” Stiles asked delicately.

“Excuse me?!” sniffed Jackson, outraged that someone like Stiles was talking to him.

“Are you being steadfast in your standing with the Lord?” Stiles repeated. “When you're at home on your laptop watching gay porn, when you're getting hard from watching the church basketball team stretch, or when you call up a cash-strapped rent boy and receive the pleasure of riding on his dick, are you still stand-”

“-Daddy, did you find the Frisbee yet?” a little towheaded boy cried while he ran up to the trio, closely followed by a slim blonde woman with red and black hipster glasses.

“I...did Roy Boy.” Jackson finally responded, his face a lovely puce shade from Stiles' insinuations.

“Jackson I think you should go now.” Derek commented.

 

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“Well today ended horribly.” Derek said while Stiles walked back over to Derek's living room couch Derek was sitting on.

“I wouldn't say horribly, I'd say today went exactly as I expected.” Stiles argued as he handed Derek an unbent clothes hanger.

“So getting ambushed by a Jesus freak and DJ getting food poisoning from that shitshow McDonald's went according to plan to you?” Derek grimaced in ecstasy as he shoved the hanger down his bright blue leg cast.

“Well ever since I stepped back in Beacon Hills I've felt like coming here was a gigantic mistake.” explained Stiles as he settled into the black leather couch beside Derek. “So betting ambushed by Jackson again today just confirmed what I've already known.”

“Again?” Derek paused his manic scratching. “Stiles when were you ambushed by Jackson Whipmore?”

“It's Whitemore Derek, and when I first went to the hospital, that was when I got reacquainted with that fucking hypocrite.”

“He didn't...try anything...did he Stiles?” Derek asked, his concern mounting.

“Like what, kidnap me and then dump me into the Pacific?” Stiles responded grimly. “No Derek not that time, that time we kept it to sharp insults and veiled threats, you know the kind middle school girls make towards each other.”

“I was never a teenaged girl so I wouldn't know what threats they make.”

“No, you were a manly baseball player.”

“I was a _great_ manly baseball player.” Derek corrected with a smile.

“You were great, _and_ manly.” Stiles couldn't help but admit and smile back. “So much so that I'm surprised that you didn't try to go pro instead of being a cop.”

“I wanted to, a few scouts from Arizona State were interested, but Father wouldn't allow it.” Derek said as he resumed his scratching with a little more vigor. “He said that playing professional sports were for the inner-city and the immigrants, not for the only son of Marcus Hale. His...I'm going to say they were rules...worked out in the end though, I applied to the academy in order to spite his ass which transformed into a career that I'm grateful for and extremely proud of.”

“Is that another shard of your memory Derek, you remembering the academy?” wondered Stiles.

“It's half and half,” Derek explained. “I can remember the first year, the rest is just pictures and talks with my fellow officers.”

“Good, I hope they can help you regain your memory.” Stiles said.

Silence descended after that and Stiles couldn't help but wonder why he was still there. He'd already carried a sleeping DJ into Derek's guestroom and put him to down on the bed, had already accepted and drank Derek's thank you Pepsi for helping. The only reason he was still here instead of at home sexting Ethan was because-

“Stiles, I know something that'll help me.”

“Wha?!-” Stiles squeaked as Derek reached over and grabbed the back of his neck with his unbroken right hand, tugging him forward into a kiss that Stiles was only half-expecting.

The electric fire that always accompanied their kisses were still there, Stiles felt it racing up and down his spine as Derek masterfully parted his lips, dominating his mouth like he'd never left it. Stiles felt himself wrapping his arms around Derek's still taunt waist, Derek's meaty pecs pressed hard against his thin God of War tee-shirt. He moaned a little when Derek slowed his approach, became smooth and silky instead of demanding and ravaging. It was like coming home, Derek's electrical kisses. They had the same charge, the same bite, the same addictive taste that always made Stiles want more. Even after everything he still want-

“-Dader?”

Stiles jerked back, gasping as oxygenated air filled his lungs. He wiped his mouth, not looking at Derek's kiss swollen lips as he pulled down his tee-shirt. Stiles couldn't even look at Derek's son as he scrambled up off the couch.

“Can I get a glass of water?” DJ asked with the single-minded innocence of a child.

 

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 

_The water crushed Stiles as he struggled to reach the surface. He felt like the inky waters of the ocean were unceasing and neverending, a heavy feeling not helped by the cement that caked the bottom half of his body. Stiles cursed the fuck out of the bastards who kept their attacks to his midsection and face, the salty water felt like hot knives in his wounds as he maneuvered to the surface. In a way Stiles was grateful that the idiots who kidnapped him had flimsy buckets, he'd kicked them off of his feet the moment he hit the water. It was the handcuffs that were giving him the most trouble, they kept his hands behind his back so Stiles had to Little Mermaid it, he kept his feet together and as flipperlike as he could while the moon started to shine in the water._

_Never had Stiles been so glad for the swimming lessons his father forced him to attend to since he was in kindergarten, he wasn't Michael Phelps but made a good pace, soon Stiles was gasping in huge lungfuls of air as he bobbed above the surface. Stiles didn't know what was water and what was tears as he made his way towards shore, the streetlights of Jennings Way blinking in the distance. Now that he was relatively safe from the murder attempt Stiles could allow himself to process it, let the beating that the baseball team, Derek's Wolfpack, inflicted flash before his eyes._

_Tonight wasn't how Stiles wanted to end his high school career. Tonight was supposed to be have been the beginning of Stiles' new life, one where he was finally free of Derek and his touch. After the banquet Stiles tried so hard not to feel anything towards him, to let the electricity between them die. He failed so hard, with every stolen kiss in Derek's car and random screw in a two-bit hotel room, Stiles felt like a failure. He came to the sobering, disquieting realization that he was tired of being a secret, of being kept in the dark like he was Sloth from The Goonies. When Derek drove him to his graduation, three blocks away, Stiles decided that he didn't want to begin the next chapter of his life burdened with the immense sins of someone else. He-_

There's only two types of people in the world _,_ The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe _!_

Stiles jerked awake, blinking owlishly as he scrambled for his phone. He racked his brain for a reason why someone was calling him at three in the morning but came up empty.

“H-Hello?”

“Stiles.” It was Derek. “I remember.”

“R-Remember what?” Stiles yawned as he settled back into his bed, the lure of sleep stronger than Derek's revelation.

“Everything.” And at that Stiles snapped awake. “Stiles, DJ isn't my son. He's my fathers.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the penultimate chapter....

“Could you please, just, go over it again Derek.” Stiles gasped after he chugged down an ice cold cup of Mountain Dew. Derek didn't have coffee in his house and since Stiles' adrenaline was starting to wane, he needed all the boost he could get in order to get through this still night-skied morning.

“I couldn't sleep after you left Stiles, so after I got D-DJ-” Derek paused and slugged down another finger of whiskey straight from the bottle, his hand trembling a little. “-back down to bed I started to clean up.”

“I would've thought that you'd grown out of nervous cleaning by now Derek, what with your job cleaning up the streets of Beacon Hills.” commented Stiles, desperate to cling to something that he could understand.

Derek wasn't so ready to travel to familiar waters. “As I was cleaning up, thinking about you and us, I found this under my sink.”

Stiles jumped when Derek slammed a bright red toolbox down onto his counter. He felt his heart start to pound as Derek reached in and pulled out a thick manila envelope.

“I have a contact in Massachusetts, a private detective was a friend of mine during my academy days, he kept an eye on you.” Derek revealed as he opened the envelope and plopped down a sheaf of pictures.

“You were having me stalked!?” Stiles exclaimed as he slipped off the rubber band and spread the pictures across the black marble. The photos were a detailed retrospective of Stiles' entire career at Harvard, pictures of him going to class, buying coffee with Lydia, and walking the quad with Ethan. Stiles didn't know what to feel, seeing his life for the past five years in literal black and white.

“I was.” Derek nodded apologetically. “I just wanted to see if you were okay, see if my father had you killed or deep in white slavery. Stiles, it was only supposed to have been for six months, six months where I intruded in your life. I- _couldn't_ -let go of what I was seeing, images where you were alive and thriving in an environment where...I wasn't around. Those pictures showed me an alternate reality where I didn't break you into a million little pieces with all of my problems Stiles, they showed the future that I'd always wanted for you Stiles, one where you were always happy.”

“...So you found these pictures, what happened next?” Stiles said after a tense two minute inner-monologue where he debated leaving Derek's house because what was happening was just too much.

“I looked through them, I felt nothing about them, no memory of having took them or getting them sent to me.” Derek continued, silently acknowledging Stiles' prodding. “So I packed them back up into the toolbox, took a shower and went to sleep. It felt like I was dreaming but somehow I knew I wasn't. Stiles, the shards that became my mind started to shift and merge together, they got so big and clear that I could see my entire life reflected before me on a gleaming mirror. When I woke up I just,knew.”

“Knew about what?”

“About you, about me, about us, about...DJ.” Derek shivered, which had nothing to do with the balmy early July temperature.

“How do you know that DJ is not..yours...Derek?” Stiles asked as delicately as he could, right hand quickly reaching for the glass of soda he'd put down on the counter beside the pictures.

“I've never loved her, Kate, Stiles it's important to me that you know that.” Derek started as he mechanically gathered up the assorted pictures of his ex. “The night we supposedly made DJ, I was under a haze I can barely see through, I just know that I was drunk and it was a few months after you'd left Beacon Hills. She...I...was lonely.”

“So lonely that you would sleep with a woman?” Stiles knew he shouldn't snark when Derek was baring his soul, he couldn't seem to help himself.

“Back then I would've slept with Bea Arthur's rotting corpse.” Derek baldy replied. “The love of my life was gone and I was partly responsible for it. Drinking didn't help me forget and neither did being an officer, when I went to home I thought that my sister would help keep my mind off of you, but she brought you up every ten minutes.”

“Laura was always my favorite sister.” Stiles smiled.

“No, it was the younger one.” Derek revealed while he wound the pictures back up. “Cora read me the riot act, she said she was ashamed to know me, that she couldn't believe I would allow our father to run and ruin my life.”

“Cora said this?!” goggled Stiles. “Mean homophobic Cora Rose Hale said all of that?”

“Cora's not homophobic, she just hated you because you're poor and she thought you were a gold-digger.” Derek explained. “It was after you went to Harvard that she became your biggest champion, she wanted me to fly out there and beg you until you took me back.”

“But then Kate happened?”

“But then Kate happened.” Derek confirmed as he placed the toolbox back underneath the sink and slammed the cabinet door shut a little too hard. “I went to the bar at the Hilton one night to get completely trashed, and she was...there. She had all the right things to say, she didn't make me feel like the enormous piece of shit that I knew I was. I just have the haziest memory of us walking back to her hotel room and then the maid informing me the checkout time was fifteen minutes ago.”

“And...how does Senator Hale impregnating your one night stand factor into this tale exactly?” Stiles wondered.

“DJ has a kidney condition, two years ago he needed surgery to remove a part of his left kidney.” Derek started. “It was horrible, I've never felt so powerless in my life, so when the doctors proposed that our family donate blood, I jumped at the chance. I knew that the doctors only suggested it to get me to shut the hell up, but I still went through with it. I have my mother's blood, she was AB Negative, which coincidentally is the same bloodtype that Kate has. DJ's O Positive, that's the same bloodtype as my father and my sisters.”

“You found out at your son's hospital bed?” Stiles gasped, horrified.

“At first I didn't want to believe it so I went to the drugstore and bought one of those home paternity tests.” Derek continued, eyes dark with the memory. “You wouldn't believe the...relief...I felt when that test revealed that I wasn't his father.”

“That's...different.” Stiles breathed. “Most people would've been devastated to know that their son was really their brother.”

“Oh my world was shattered, it was like someone pistol-whipped me with a barbed wired wrapped gun.” Derek forcefully reassured Stiles. “The boy I potty trained, whose first words to me were 'Dada', wasn't even my son. I felt like the world's biggest failure, like my career wasn't worth anything, I was an officer of the law who couldn't figure out that my son wasn't even my son.”

“But...”

“Once I had the results in my hand I felt devastated, but I couldn't help but feel like I'd gotten a get out of jail free card.” Derek continued. “I didn't-I _don't_ -love Kate, I only married here because-HAHAHAHA!”

Stiles started, unprepared for the burst of manic laughter Derek barked out.

“Stiles, I only married her because I thought she had my child and because my father forced me to.” Derek grinned so hard his teeth sounded like they were about to snap. “If it weren't for DJ and my sham of a marriage then I would've boarded the next flight out to Harvard years ago and begged you everyday until you forgave me. I would've followed you around, I would've played In Your Eyes from every booxbox I could find, would've shot ping-pong balls out my ass until the night I believed my bullshit friends and that freak Jackson Whittemore over you as distant horrible memory.”

“Derek-”

“-But I couldn't, because I was married to a frigid bitch of a woman, which I would've described her as even before I found out that she'd trapped me into a marriage with my father's child.” Derek talked over Stiles. “Ever since you left you've haunted my life Stiles. I couldn't go a day without imagining us still being together, it was my favorite fantasy that we were just...happy. I'd fantasize that you would force me to watch Harry Potter all Saturday, or that I'd drag you to a baseball game and you'd fall asleep before the seventh inning.”

“Derek-”

“-So forgive me if the news of my son, the son I had never wanted, whom I constantly battled myself over whether or not I really loved, didn't exactly fill me with the soul-wrenching despair it normally would have.” Derek said with another bittersweet smile.

“So what are you going to do now?” Stiles asked.

“I'm going to call my wife in Manhattan and finish filing for divorce, I remember that I was meeting with lawyers about a month before the accident happened.” answered Derek with a sharp nod.

“Oh, so you remember your accident?” Stiles took another sip of soda. “What happened with that by the way?”

“I...um...the...” Derek suddenly turned ashen. “Stiles I don't remember.”

 

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It was ten minutes past eleven in the morning when Stiles dragged himself through his father's kitchen door. He'd spent the better part of the morning trying to jog Derek's memories. The most Derek could remember that it was raining that night, and that he thought he wasn't driving, two details that were in the police report his captain had given him about two weeks eariler. According to the report, Derek's Bentley hydroplaned and then hit a tree, the force of which somehow propelled him out of his car and onto the asphalt road. The police were still puzzled how Derek lost control of his vehicle to that extent, a Beacon Hills native used to their torrential autumn showers.

As Stiles walked up the stairs headed towards his room, the kitchen door ope ned again and Ethan walked in, the spare key his father gave him glinting in the sunlight.

“Ethan!” Stiles said as he descended down the stairs, squashing the flare of guilt that rose within him. “How was Sunnydale?”

“Fantastic, the rapids were phenomenal, Scott started crying after the third hour.” Ethan smiled uneasily while he sipped from his Starbucks cup, his good cheer fading as he looked at Stiles. “Stiles I was just here, I'd went out for chai, where were you?”

“Breakfast,” Stiles lied as he walked towards his boyfriend. He didn't know precisely why he lied, he just knew that he didn't want Ethan to know that his ex was pining for him for five years. Or that his son was his father's. “I went to Denny's this morning, I didn't feel like eating alone by myself so I figured the comfort of complete strangers would do.”

“Did that comfort include Derek Hale's?”

“What!?” gasped Stiles.

“That's where your father said you were, something about a medical emergency he was having.” Ethan responded. “Are you screwing him?”

“No!” Stiles cried, shaking his head. “I just helping him with his emergency.”

“And that was?” Ethan asked, his veneer of calm cracking. “What emergency was it, did his kid need some stitches, did Derek need you to redress a wound, what did you do with him if you two weren't fucking all night while I was driving back from Sunnydale?”

“Derek regained his memory.”

“H-He did?” Ethan gawked at Stiles. “Since when?”

“Since last night.” Stiles said. “He called me and asked me to come over, he told me he remembers the entire last five years. He-”

PAW!!

Stiles reared back, stars flashing across his eyes as Ethan punched him in the face for the second time. As his vision blackened and his consciousness started to fade, Stiles wondered why, he wondered what was happening, he wondered....

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter. Sorry for the wait to the zero who care, I had to work....

“ _...If I could get another pillow for my leg please?” Stiles asked the departing nurse who'd entered his hospital room for the fifth time that hour. Stiles knew Nurse Betty was just doing her job, that she was checking to see if he'd slipped into a coma within the last ten minutes of her previous visit. While his concussion did make it seem like an entire marching band were currently inside his mind playing 'Flight of the Bumblebee' at ear-splitting decibels, Stiles didn't feel faint in the slightest so he couldn't help but find all the intrusions extremely annoying._

_Stiles just wanted to forget, he wanted to fall asleep and have all that he endured morph into a hazy afterthought. The entire ordeal with Derek's Wolfpack felt like something brutal that Quentin Tarantino Nolan would've thought of late at night, Stiles could still feel the icy waters of the ocean on his skin, the heaviness of the concrete that had caked his legs. It was a stoke of luck that Stiles swam across a random fisherman who was doing some night-fishing, at that late hour not too many people were on that stretch of beach. Now safely away from the water, Stiles closed his eyes and tried to the ride the Vicodin faery off to dreamland._

_That particular ride crashed and burned when Stiles' hospital door swung open and Sheriff Whittemore ambled his way in, his customary white cowboy hat blotting out the overhead lighting._

_“Mr. Stilinski I know you've survived a terrible ordeal and so I'll try to make this a painless as possible,” Sheriff Whittemore said with his customary politeness soaked in pure Southern disdain. Oliver Whittemore had never liked Stiles, even though his father was his right hand man. Maybe it was because Stiles preferred Ranch instead of Thousand Island, or that he wanted a man's touch instead of a woman's, but they never really saw eye to eye._

_“Where's my dad?” Stiles grimaced as he tried to sit up straighter in his reclined hospital bed._

_“He'll be here shortly, Deputy Sheriff Stilinski had another matter to clear up before he arrives.” Sheriff Whittemore said. “ Mr. Stilinski, Stiles, what can you tell me about the events of tonight, I understand that you found yourself in a little accident.”_

_“... Sheriff Whittemore it wasn't an accident.” Stiles said after he overcame the gigantic spike of rage that just surged within him. “I don't think being beaten by four members of the baseball team and having them throw me into the ocean afterward counts as an accident.”_

_“According to your blood alcohol level, Mr. Stilinski you were twice the legal limit when you were admitted as well as having had a significant amount of GHB in your bloodstream.” Sheriff Whittemore responded with a glance down at Stiles' medical file. “I admit to not being the most current on what new drugs the kids are taking now, but I know a bad trip when I see one Mr. Stilinski.”_

_“Y-You think I got high on drugs and then what, beat myself up and jumped into the ocean handcuffed wearing cement shoes!?” It said something about Stiles' night that the news of him being drugged against his will didn't really upset him as much as Sheriff Whittemore's disbelief did._

_“Mr. Stilinski when you were admitted to Beacon Hills you didn't have on handcuffs, not to mention not having a speck of cement on you.” Sheriff Whittemore pointed out._

_“The water washed away most of the cement and the fisherman who rescued me happened to have a spare set of handcuff away keys, he said he was a security guard.” Stiles said. “If you went to go find him at Jennings Way, I'm sure he'd corroborate what happened.”_

_“Mr Stilinski do you have a name for this...fisherman?”_

_“I..don't.” Stiles sighed heavily. “It was a little hectic when I first met him, I just know one of his names was Boyd or Flloyd.”_

_“If you can't give us a full name to back your story Mr. Stilinski, I'm afraid we can't check to see if what you said is worthy of prosecuting.”_

_“So neither my broken leg, or my cracked ribs, or my bruised face is worthy enough for you to send an officer down to find that fisherman and make sure what I'm saying is true?” Stiles couldn't muster up enough strength to become incredulous so he settled for weary._

_“Mr. Stilinski let's back up for a moment.” Sheriff Whittemore continued in his fax-pleasant Andy Griffith demeanor. “Where did this alleged attack originally take place?”_

_“It was at your grandson's house, this year Jackson volunteered to host the cool kids secret graduation afterparty that everyone seems to knows about. I was outside after I'd gotten drunk when they...dragged me into the Whittemore's backyard barn.” Stiles didn't feel the need to protect Jackson, as he was the one who fed Stiles spiked punch after cup of spiked punch until he was hammered and vulnerable to the Wolfpack's attack. He could kick himself for letting his...thing...with Derek cloud his good sense and not allow him to question why his classmate, the one who launched the most vocal and tenacious opposition against Beacon Hill High's GSA kept him swimming in drinks all night._

_“My grandson's house?” Sheriff Whittemore said, surprised. “I knew Jonathan should've left Jackie at my house when he went off to that pastoral conference. Mr. Stilinski I'm assuming that you're able to identify your alleged attackers?”_

_“There were four of then.” Stiles said. “Wade Ennis, Liam Dunbar, Geno Kincaid, and Scott Howard.”_

_“So two judge's sons, the son of Beacon Hills' county manager, and a promising second baseman all came together to abduct and attack you, Stiles Stilinski?” Sheriff Whittemore's tone didn't change but Stiles could hear his condescension. “Need I remind you Mr. Stilinski that all four of these young men are two years out of high school?”_

_“I can't say why they were at Jackson's party Sheriff Whittemore, other than maybe they wanted to relive their glory days with people who still thought they mattered.” Stiles responded. “Besides, I've never been able to see...eye to eye...with them, so them attacking me is well within the realm of possibility.”_

_“Mr. Stilinski I still don't see how any of you crossed paths, it's not like the five of you were in the same social or academic circles.” Sheriff Whittemore said._

_“I used to be romantically involved with one of their teammates.” Stiles said as diplomatically as he could, all the while wondering why he was still protecting Derek's secrets. “They didn't approved of me so they did a lot of mean-spirited pranks and they used to get the junior varsity-”_

_“Who was this teammate Mr. Stilinski-”_

_“Sheriff Whittemore, I've finished driving your mother-in-law home.” The conversation paused while Stiles' father made his way into the room, his clear blue eyes a nice accent to his navy blue suit. “Now would you mind explaining to me why you've decided to interrogate my injured son without a lawyer or guardian present?”_

_“You know just as well as I do that Mama Lawson likes you more than me Deputy Stilisnki, besides I wouldn't call a light conversation between..acquaintances...an interrogation.” Sheriff Whittemore defended himself, the bastion of congenial charm._

_“My minor son is here alone in his hospital room, with you beside him asking probing questions, how is that not an unauthorized interrogation?” Stiles' father asked, his jaw ticking with rage._

_“Well I apologize Deputy Stilinski, in my haste I assumed that you wanted this matter dealt with as quickly as I did.” Sheriff Whittemore smiled disingenuously._

_“Are you aright Stiles, how are you feeling?” Deputy Stilinski brusquely moved past Derek to tenderly run his hand through his son's hair._

_“I just want this night to be over.” Stiles rasped, the feel of his father's hand almost breaking through his brittle defenses._

_“Your son was just informing us that his alleged assault could've been triggered by his romantic involvement with a former-”_

_“Derek Hale.”_

_“What about Officer Hale?” Sheriff Whittemore tossed an impatient look John Stilinski's way._

_“He is the one whom my son's been seeing for the past three years, aren't you Derek?” Deputy Stilinski asked._

_“WHAT?” gasped Stiles, a huge expression of shock on his face.“D-Dad, how-”_

_“-I'm not gay.” All three heads turned as red faced and uniformed Derek Hale stumbled his way in, followed in closely by a tuxedo clad Marcus Hale. Derek tossed Deputy Stilinski his car keys while he added, “Stiles and I are friends, nothing more.”_

_“Really?” John gave Derek a patented Stilinski smirk. “I didn't know friends made out in each others Camaro.”_

_“Is that true son?” Marcus fixed Derek with a piercing emerald stare. “Are you a dirty faggot?”_

_“..No, sir I'm not.” Derek said monotonously, his gaze firmly on the framed reproduction of Van Gogh's Starry Night above Stiles' hospital bed._

_“So this attack, Deputy Silinski's son being beaten, that has nothing to do with you?” Marcus Hale pressed._

_“_ UUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Stiles gasped awake, his body convulsing as it tried to remove the water from his nostrils. He tried to wipe his face, only to realize that his hands were handcuffed onto the headboard of a cheap motel bed.

“Good, you're awake.” Ethan said as he set down the now empty Taco Bell cup on the desk beside him.

“E..Ethan,” Stiles said as best he could, his face partially swollen from Ethan's punches. “Wha-”

“-Stiles, I think its time that I explained a few things about myself.” The bed dipped as Ethan settled down beside Stiles, who hissed when he lightly brushed a thumb across his bruised cheek.

“Stiles I need money, like a lot of money.” Ethan said. My mother she's...my dad has been pretty accepting of my choices but it's my mother who turned herself into the uber-religious nutjob my grandfather raised her to be. Since it'll be a cold day in hell before she'll ever ride on a pride float, that bitch decided to revoke my trust fund.”

“I thought you said your grandfather had the money.” Stiles tried to cast his mind back to a long ago conversation.

“Yes, the CEO of the multinational conglomerate affiliated with the Tea Party is gay friendly.” Ethan laughed derisively. “When I came out he was standing in our living room with the papers twenty minutes later. It was only because of Dad and my brother that they decided to continue paying for college.”

“So go work in a hospital, I hear doctor-”

“They've unofficially blacklisted me from almost every major US hospital.” Ethan cut it. “Carver United has built a lot of hospitals over the years, they have a lot of land in a lot of states. My father is a PhD from a small town in Nebraska so the only pull he has is that he could have the hospital he started in open up a spot for me and Stiles, I don't want to go to bumfuck Nebraska.”

“Ethan I'm sorry but-”

“-Kate when I met her again as an adult, she was in the same boat as I was, her family's money had gotten seized because of insider trading plus the faggot husband she duped into marrying her was starting to realize that he didn't want to be married to person who ran up his credit cards, hated that he wouldn't use the millions his father gave him and had a vagina.” ranted Ethan. “She thought that by having his kid-”

“-DJ isn't Derek's-”

“-Whatever Stiles, the point is she thought getting knocked up would score her some brownie points with him and get Derek to call daddy up for some more money, but he just started working even later at the station.” Ethan said. “When that failed Kate wanted to cut her looses and go to Paris, so that's where I came in, where our epic love story starts.”

“How does our epic love story,” Stiles spat out. “factor into some gold digger's plans for further gold-digging?”

. “Kate knew that Derek would've eventually came to his senses and run off like he was fucking Richard Gere in An Officer and a Gentleman.” Ethan laughed. “I was supposed to have been a roadblock, something to keep you occupied and unavailable if and when Derek decided to knock on your door. It's not like it was difficult, if you recall I've spent many nights where I couldn't keep my hands off your ass.”

“I still don't under-”

“-Derek is a stand up guy which was how Kate married him, he wouldn't come knocking if he thought you were truly happy with someone else, someone who didn't throw you to the wolves like he did.”Ethan smiled. “I was just supposed to screw you and keep you occupied until Kate had enough time to find Derek's accounts, then once she gotten a hold of his trust fund, Kate was going to run off into the sunset with me about ten million dollars richer.”

Stiles was speechless. He couldn't believe that Ethan spent almost four years pretending that he loved him, that he wasn't part of some warped plan to get Derek's money.

“I-”

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Stiles started, heart resuming turbo speed as Ethan smiled as bounded off of the bed.

“Finally!” Ethan chirped as he made his way for the door. “I can't wait to leave this ABC Family ripoff of a town.”

Stiles could only stare, wide eyed, as Senator Marcus Hale stepped into the cheap motel room.

 

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 

_“Sir, if I could just-”_

_“-Officer Hale I think you've done enough.” Newly minted Sheriff Stilinski didn't even look up from his paperwork but Derek could feel the man's disdain._

_Still, he had to try. “I know that I don't deserve to contact Stiles but-”_

_“-No, you don't deserve to, you don't deserve anything Officer Hale.” Now Sheriff Stiliski slammed his pen down, blue eyes dark with rage. “My son loved you and so you did what, denied the relationship ever existed which made it next to impossible to convict those bastards you call your friends of the hate crime they committed.”_

_“They were convicted of assault-”_

_“-Which because of your father all of them only served less than a year in jail.” Sheriff Stilinski pointed out._

_“He also got you this job.” Derek could help but point out, the solid year of futilely asking Sheriff Stilinski about Stiles' whereabouts making his words sharper._

_“Yes he did, he also paid for my son's college education.” Sheriff Stilinski was unrepentant. “Unlike my predecessor I plan on using this office and actually do some good with it. So if you're done pestering your commanding officer in said office, Officer Hale I'd appreciate it if you left”_

_All too soon Derek found himself walking down the hallway doing what became second nature, mentally beating himself up and analyzing that night down to the last detail. It made him want to light himself on fire, the knowledge that he destroyed the one thing he valued over everything else. Not even DJ, the thought of whom never failed to make Derek's eye twitch, could fill that void._

_Derek sightlessly found his desk and opened the top drawer, inside on the right was a small slip of paper. Derek felt his eyes sting as he looked at the photo-booth roll, the pictures showing Stiles and Derek at the Sunnydale Fair for Stiles' eighteenth birthday. It was like a knife to the heart, looking at the pair of them smiling, of them kissing in between making funny faces at the camera. If he could just-_

“-Dader! Dader!”

Derek groaned, owlishly blinking awake as DJ stood beside his bed, thrusting his vibrating cell phone in his face.

“I was watching cartoons and this was making the pillows shake.” DJ tossed the phone at Derek at ran back out the room, were Derek heard Spongebob blaring at ear-splitting decibels.

“Hello?” Derek yawned after he scrolled accept.

“Derek, it's Liam Dunbar.” Liam said from New York City. “Your wife was here in my office yesterday.”

“Why would she be there?” Derek rose from his bed and followed the sound of Spongebob. Liam was Derek's business manager, unwillingly given to him by his Uncle Peter in order to manage the fifty million dollars given to him by his father. Since he'd never spent a dime of it nor was really in contact with Liam, Derek was surprised to hear that Kate even knew he had a business manager to begin with.

“She wanted to liquidate your trust fund Derek, the entire fifty million.” Liam said.

“I've never given her permission into my trust fund!” Derek exclaimed, shock making him immobile. “I haven't even gone to your office ever since I first signed that document five years ago.”

“A fact I'm well aware of.” Liam commented. “I wasn't in the office when she arrived so Mrs. Hale had to work with one of my associates. Since the liquidation of such a large amount of money requires the signature of the primary signer, my associate had to inform her that particular item was required for them to release those particular funds.”

“Then that's good, I haven't signed-”

“You wife came prepared.” Liam cut in. “She'd already had the release documents, with your signature on it already written on it. I used to be a notary in college, so I knew a forgery when I saw one. Unfortunately Mr. Hale, I've only discovered this deception when I were verifying the documents ten minutes ago, after she'd left the bank with the entire fifty million on a debit card.”

“THAT-THAT-” Spongebob talking about Krabby Patties at high volume reminded Derek that he had a minor in the house so he struggled for something that wasn't expletive driven to say. “What am I supposed to do, what can I do?”

“I've already sent out a freeze for that account citing fraud, but it'll take at least twenty four hours for it to activate.” Liam said. “But who knows where she'd be in these forty-eight hours, she could've left Manhattan and gone off to Timbuktu.”

“...I'm going to have to call you back.” Derek said, gripping the phone so hard he could've cracked the case.

“I see, I-” click.

Derek shoved his phone onto his pajama pockets and finished leaving his bedroom, mind whirling as he tried to come up with a suitable plan. It wasn't like he was broke or really needed the money, it was the fact that his wife had once again duped him, had stole from him that made Derek's blood boil. Not to mention that _fifty million_ dollars was stolen for the past two days. He really didn't know what to do, didn't know who to call, it wasn't like Kate killed someone, which was in his wheelhouse as a detective.

Since Derek was drawing a blank, he wanted to clear his mind by watching cartoons with his brother. He wanted to scream bloody murder and throw things as he sat down beside DJ but Derek settled for watching the citizens of Bikini Bottom. The red haze over Derek's vision had just started to clear and his heartbeat had just gotten back under control when his doorbell rang. That moment of peace immediately shattered when Derek rose from the couch and opened his loft door.

“I'm here for DJ.” Kate said impatiently as she swiped on her iPhone. “We have a one pm flight to catch.”

“AAAAAAH!” Derek gasped, clutching his head, his temples feeling like some had shoved icepicks through them. He stumbled, his walking cast encased leg making him grab the door jamb. “SHIT!”

“God what the hell's wrong with you?” Kate rolled her eyes as she lowered her phone.

“You...” Derek winced, his mind ablaze as he finally remembered the accident...

_“Kate look-” Derek heaved a sigh as he drove down Hemlock Grove, his thoughts a mile a minute as he tried to get through to his wife that he wanted to end their marriage because he was gay in a way that was classy and respectable. “Kate I don't love you-”_

_“I know sweetheart.” Kate simpered, rolling her eyes as she glared at Derek. “You're in love with some boy named...Stiles...or..Miles I wan wiht to say his name is?”_

_“Yes I am.” Derek said resolutely. “Kate I've done my part, I've stayed with you while your son recovered from surgery-”_

_“-He's your son too!-”_

_“-Are you really going to play that game?” Derek snapped, inordinately glad that DJ was having a sleepover at his sister Laura's. “You know just as well as I do that DJ's not my son.”_

_“I bet that made your dick hard, for the first time in this pathetic marriage.” Kate laughed, seemingly for the first time since this conversation started ._

_“It did.” Derek smiled viciously as he turned on Knowles Road. “To know that I have no ties to you, that I've served my four year sentence in this hell of a relationship and I can go free, Kate I'm ecstatic. Granted I'll admit that I'm most worried about DJ though, to have to grow up knowing that his mother cheated on the man she married with that man's father, well it's lucky that he's so young-”_

_SWERVVVVVVE!!!_

_Derek's Mercedes lurched towards the left hand side of the road, spinning as Derek desperately tried to regain control of the car after Kate had jerked the wheel as far as it could go._

_SMASHHH!!!_

_THUNK!!_

_Stars joined the glass flying across Derek's face as he crashed through the windshield of his Mercedes. The force make Derek collide hard against a redwood, he could hear and feel his leg and arm bones snapping as he tumbled onto the ground. As Derek lost consciousness, he saw Kate stumble out of the car, blood pouring from a wound on her cheek as she hobbled her way towards Derek, stopping only to pick up a fallen tree branch._

_“Baby,” Kate smiled as she swung back the branch. “I can't say that this didn't work out for me in the end-”_

“Derek hello, are you awake Derek?” Kate snapped her fingers in front of Derek's face. “I said I need-HEY!”

Before he could stop himself Derek jerked forward, yanking his door closed as he snatched Kate's Birkin bag from her arm in one swift movement. Years of police training made Derek able to smoothly hold Kate at bay and extract her matching oxblood colored clutch.

“ You bastard, that's mine!” Kate shrieked, clawing Derek's arm as she tried to get her clutch back.

“Is my money yours you bitch?!” Derek yelled. He easily shrugged off Kate's attacks as he clutched a black American Express debit card emblazoned with his name.

“Derek!” Kate cried, her demeanor instantly transforming from antagonistic into placating. “I can explain-”

“-Kate you're under arrest the way.”Derek said as he tucked his card into his black plaid pajama pants with his phone. “For assault with a deadly weapon, with leaving the scene of an accident, with fraud with-”

“-Oh god, you remember everything!” The color started to leech from Kate's face as tears started to flow down it. “I'm sorry about that Derek, really, that night I just panicked. I wanted to-you don't even _want_ that money Derek but I need it, my family has nothing left, I have nothing left. I got fired by my practice-”

“-I don't care.” Derek said, his patience rapidly coming to an end. “Kate besides the fact you've stolen fifty million dollars from me and then have the balls to stand on my door step, you're also the one who caused the accident that almost killed me as well as you attacked and then left me by the side of the road to die afterward. If I didn't arrest you I'd be the worst detective ever.”

“I hate you!” Kate cried. “You ruined my life you goddamn faggot, why didn't you die in that crash, why did you have to be fucking alive-”

“Yeah yeah,” Derek turned back towards his condo. “I hope you're mature enough to wait with your son while the cops-”

“NO!”

Derek easily dodged Kate's sucker punch, twisting her arm and wrapping his into a sleeper hold. He'd be lying if he said that it didn't feel satisfying to squeeze the life out of Kate's body. After she was limp and lifeless Derek dispassionately dropped Kate onto the hallway floor and stepped over her body, fishing his phone from his pocket as he opened his condo door.

Never had Derek been more grateful for Nickelodeon programming, DJ didn't even look as Derek sat down beside him and pulled out his phone, Derek's entire ordeal with his mother completely flying past him. Derek was about to call the police when his uncle called.

“Derek I need you to come..”

 

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“I don't know what to say.” Stiles said to his father, the trauma blanket a paramedic had draped around him itchy and uncomfortable. “Ethan was part of some plan to get Derek's money, he brought me to this to motel in order to sell me to Senator Hale.”

“Yes he did Sheriff.” Senator Hale confirmed from a seat in the opened ambulance. “He thought that I'd pay a million dollars to get rid of my son's 'problem'.”

“So why didn't you?” Sheriff Stilinski asked.

“As evidenced by the way I restrained Ethan Carver, I'm not a murderer.” Senator Hale said. “I know Stiles and I haven't exactly seen....eye to eye...but I'd never want him dead.”

“I could've sworn you did.”

“Derek!” Stiles' heart fluttered as Derek stepped through the open doors, his presence making the ambulance feel cramped.

“-I-mumph!”

Whatever Stiles was about to say was halted when Derek grabbed his neck and yanked him into a kiss. Despite his bruises and the presence of his father Stiles felt that electric fire, so much so that he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around Derek and deepening the kiss.

“Uh hum.” Senator Hale coughed.

“I love him.” Derek told his father after he let go of Stiles' lips. “I don't care what you say, I don't care what you do but I love him, I would die for him. I've almost died-”

“-Son I used to be in love.” Senator Hale said randomly, looking down at Stiles with a strange expression on his face. “She was beautiful, her name was Bianca Morrell. Her um, mother, used to work for us as a housekeeper and I used to be...infatuated. She'd always have on a Saint Anne's uniform, because her mother did everything in her power to send her to the best school-”

“-Not that I don't want to hear you talk about how much you weren't in love with mom-”

“-She was a negro.” Marcus cut through his son's uncomfortableness. “You may think I'm a bad father but I've never burned down Stiles' house when I found the two of you kissing.”

Derek's eyes widened. “Dad-”

“-My father, your grandfather, was a Hydra in the Klan.” Senator Hale cut in. “He thought blacks could work for us but they damn sure couldn't fall in love with us. But I didn't care, I loved Bebe and she loved me. We were even about to elope to Canada.”

“So why didn't you?” Derek asked.

“Because my father burned her house down.” Marcus said. “Also I realized that I may have been wiling to die for her, but I didn't want her to die for me. I wanted Bianca to live life without the cloud of death over her head. Derek I maybe homophobic, I don't deny that, but I'm also a romantic at heart. If you stood up for yourself to me,just once, if you'd....I would've dealt with it. I would've found some way to come around. Derek I know what it's like to fall for someone...inappropriate, someone whom your parent didn't approve of. I guess I just thought y-”

“You know Marcus, let's give them some privacy.” Sheriff Stilinski cut through Senator Hale's ramblings.

“I just thought this gay thing was a passing infatuation of yours, and for that I'm sorry.” Marcus said as he rose from his seat. “I guess after so many years, it's easy to allow your talking points to become fact in your mind.”

“So Derek what happened to you?” Stiles took note of the deep scratches on Derek's face and the fact that he was shirtless in pajamas after their fathers had left.

“If you let me I'd love to tell you over a plate of hospital food.” Derek smile-grimaced as he touched a scratch on his cheek.

“I'd love that.” Stiles smiled. “It's a date.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE!!! COMMENT, EVEN IF YOU HATE IT!! It'll tell me if this is good and how soon to post.


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